Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic III: The End
by What contented men desire
Summary: KOTOR3. With Revan's return to known space the invasion of the True Sith can't be far behind. Now he must team up once more, with allies old and new, and fufill Master Vandar's prophecy: he must once more save the Republic. LSMRevanxBastila LSFExilexOC
1. Chapter 1

Well, my first Star Wars fic. If you've read my other fic then you already know that I do not promise regular updates, only that I will update. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 1**

5 Years Ago, 3 951 BBY

Katia Mayin stood in the main hold of the _Ebon Hawk_, the clumsy and rusted smuggling freighter she had found herself escaping from Peragus II on just a few months before. She had been exiled into the Unknown Regions following the Mandalorian Wars, but was able to follow in the footsteps of her mentor Revan and save the galaxy from a great Sith threat. Currently she was about to set out after Revan, who had himself vanished into the Unknown Regions following his defeat of Darth Malak, and aid him against the 'True Sith,' as her master old Kreia said she must in her dying moments. The only problem with her plan: the only thing in existence who knew where Revan was, besides Revan himself, was the temperamental astromech droid named T3-M4 who stood before her.

Katia herself was a strong woman. She had an unnatural gift for making force bonds very easily, a gift that nearly cost her her life. During the battle of Malachor V, at the end of the Mandalorian Wars, she was so affected by the deaths caused by the Mass Shadow Generator that she shut herself off from the force. Such an act would have killed a lesser being, but she somehow survived. And now she turned that strength on the stubborn T3 unit, her green eyes staring into the defiant droid's single blue optical sensor, her dark blonde hair and dark robes swaying in the breeze from the ventilator system. Finally the droid located the required programming, at least that's what the almost incoherent stream of beeps whirrs and whistles emanating from the machine conveyed. The droid's head swivelled away from Katia and a shimmering blue light was emitted from its optical sensor. The light gradually formed the shape of a bald, average height man with a thin black goatee and beard wearing a set of long black robes. For the first time in ten years, Katia looked upon the face of Revan.

The holo-image spoke in Revan's low, powerful voice, but Katia recognized that it was simply a pre-recorded message. That did not mean his words carried any less meaning however, so she watched him carefully.

"Greetings Jedi. I only hope that this droid will come into the right hands, or my message will be lost. I have done unspeakable things, been to the darkest corners of the galaxy, as you who are watching this certainly know. In the lowest of these places I saw a glimpse of what is to be. If my loyal droid found the correct person, as I have no doubt he will, then you are destined to rid the galaxy of terrible evil, as I once did." The holographic Revan took a deep breath. "If you have truly defeated this menace, which you certainly have if you are viewing this message, then you have been to the place I spoke of. You too have seen. You who saw where I walk, I have a request for you. Do not search for me." Revan stressed those five words with all the conviction he ever possessed. "I ask you to stay behind, to rebuild the Jedi Order and the Republic. I know what year it will be when you see my request, and I have seen enough to know that I will be nearly finished my work. I will return soon, and the Republic must be ready to stand with me against this new evil. Rebuild what Malak destroyed, I beg you."

Revan hesitated before adding another request in a quiet voice, his eyes on his dark boots. "And if you come across Bastila Shan. Tell her…tell her I'm sorry." He looked back up, and it seemed to Katia that his blue eyes met her green ones. "And above all, do not fear love. A friend once told me that love itself will save you, not condemn you as the Jedi Council believe. Do not fear it." With that final comment the image of Revan bowed low and disappeared. T3 turned back to look at its new mistress. A series of beeps and whistles were directed at her from it. She smiled sadly.

"That's right T3. It seems this galaxy is a magnet for the Sith." She mirthlessly joked. T3 whistled his agreement and scurried off, presumably to do some repairs on the ship in Bao-Dur's absence. Katia herself walked to her room, just off of the corridor to the cockpit. She closed the door reflexively, though there was no one on board but her and T3, and removed the black robes she wore, leaving her in her underwear. She had found them in a plasteel cylinder in the Trayus Academy on Malachor V, and had figured they would be a good disguise for trekking through ancient Sith space. But now she was to stay and rebuild the Republic. Not that she resented the job, she loved people and tried as hard as she could to make life better for all beings. Maybe it was better that she was away from the fighting. The last time she entered a war it didn't turn out so good.

And then there was the issue of Revan's final words on love. She groaned and collapsed onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. Who did she have to love? The number of males she had been in close contact with EVER was a short list. Mandalore, or Canderous as Kreia had called him at the end, was hardly the kind of person she could ever identify with. Bao-Dur was too interested in his trinkets. She liked Mical, but he was far too naïve. He deserved someone as innocent as he was. And then there was Atton. Sure he had made mistakes, but who hasn't? He seemed to be having a major character overhaul, and she was glad of it, but she couldn't see herself with him in any capacity. "Why am I even thinking about this?" she asked the empty room. "The Jedi code forbids romantic attachements." Whatever she said, she couldn't get Revan's words out of her head. 'Love itself will save you, not condemn you.' With a sigh she got off her bed and pulled on her Jedi robes. The rest of her crew would be pleased to learn that she wasn't leaving, and she could probably use a long sonic bath to think things over.

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Many light-years away, on a remote planet in the Unknown Regions which received no sunlight, feelings of anger were overwhelming for the force-sensitive population. Amidst the hatred, one figure stood out. It, or to be more specific he, was ignoring the frenzied screams of the other residents of his homeworld. Instead he was making his way out of the small village towards an ancient temple. The temple was a massive dome made of polished black stone. Around its perimeter were many pairs of standing stones, each one easily a hundred feet high, made of the same stone and capped by another block. The 'doorways' were even spaced around the temple, with a burning torch between each. The exception was the one the figure made his way to know. His destination was a wider 'doorway', on a path leading towards a black empty space in the dome. As he passed by the torches he became momentarily visible.

He was no humanoid; his body was that of a massive green serpent, but with four arms. He stood easily seven feet high. His four dark grey eyes, a vertical stack of two on each side of his thin head, looked nowhere but at the emptiness that was the entrance to the temple. He wore a black sleeveless tunic with blood red trimmings around the hem and collar, and black metallic armbands on his wrists. From his belt hung a shaft of silvery metal, about six inches long. In one of his left hands he held a gnarled wooden staff which hung unused at his side.

He entered the temple. Inside was lit by an eerie red glow, yet it stemmed from no source. It simply _was_. The interior of the temple was a single large room, with many black statues along the outside wall all the way around. In the center sat another figure, cross-legged, on the floor. Curiously the light did not touch him, and he remained ever in darkness. However, enough could be seen of his form to know that he was humanoid and sported a long topknot on the top of his head. The first creature spoke, but in no language recognized within the Republic. However the seated figure seemed to understand.

"Master Maleficus." The creature had a raspy voice and hissed his 's' sounds like a snake. "The betrayer has escaped. Shall we seek him and show him the punishment for desertion?" he asked hopefully. The seated figure did not stir, but a powerful voice responded.

"No." it simply stated. It did not come from the figure sitting on the floor, it seemed to come instead from the statue directly opposite the entrance. Nonetheless the creature bowed and slithered out of the temple respectfully.

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Present Day, 3 946 BBY

An unusual man stood in line at the arrivals terminal of the Coruscant spaceport. He wore a long dark robe that covered him from head to toe, closed at the front, and a hood that covered most of his face. All that could be seen was a jaw and a black goatee, bushy surrounding the man's mouth, but no facial hair anywhere else on his face. Other passengers noticed that when he moved you could catch the slightest glimpse of a brown tunic beneath his cloak. Finally he reached the official at the head of his line. "Name?" the middle-aged woman asked, not even raising an eyebrow at his strange clothing.

"Maric Dargic." He replied in a low, melodic voice that spoke of countless battles won and lost.

"Species?"

"Human."

"Homeworld?"

"Deralia."

"Business or pleasure?"

The man's mouth curled upward into a soft smile, as if amused by a private joke. "A little of both." He finally responded.

"Identification number?"

Any sentients, organic or droid, besides the attendant who were paying attention to the stranger suddenly found their awareness directed elsewhere. When the man spoke again, his voice was layered with a rich combination of bass and baritone. "You do not need to see my identification."

For her part, the official blinked a few times and shook her head as if clearing it of thoughts before finally succumbing into a glazed look. "I don't need to see your identification." She dutifully echoed.

"You may pass." Still the same mystical voice.

"You may pass."

"Thank you." The man's voice had returned to normal, and the official seemed confused for a moment before allowing him through the barrier. He smiled to himself, and cut a deliberate path through the crowd to a specific place. Her felt her, she was close.

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The tall figure walked into the relatively new Jedi Temple in the heart of Coruscant. He strode purposefully through the halls, earning more than a few curious stares from the assorted students knights and masters milling about. As he approached his destination, a high security door with a simple red design of a star and winged organic emblazoned on it, two guards stood in his path. "You may not enter the council chambers, there is a meeting in session.

The man did not speak, merely held up his right hand and gave a sharp gesture with two outstretched fingers towards each guard. They both promptly backed away, and the man entered the Council chamber uninhibited.

The chamber was completely round, with seven seats evenly spaced around the perimeter. Directly across from the entrance stood an empty seat, to the left of a woman with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and warm grey eyes wearing a bodysuit of similar design to Jedi robes. He quickly examined the remaining six seats to see a Miraluka, four other humans, and an Iridonian standing next to the door. He moved to the center of the room and did nothing but look straight at the grey-eyed woman, the top half of his face still obscured by the hood, either not noticing or not caring that the attentions of the entire council were focused upon him.

Finally the grey-eyes woman spoke, and she did so in a medium pitched voice with just the barest hint of accent. "Who are you and what do you wish?" she asked the stranger.

"Who I am is of no consequence just yet, Grand Master Shan." He smiled briefly at the dumbfounded look appearing on Master Shan's face. "And all I want is to warn you."

Now one of the other councillors, a human seated to the right of the empty seat, spoke. This one had brown eyes, short brown hair that stuck up slightly at the front, and a thick handlebar moustache. He wore traditional Jedi Robes, but the colours were just a little bit off. "You enter our chamber unbidden, refuse to reveal yourself, and expect us to listen to you? How do we know you will not lead us to folly?" he asked in a rough voice.

The figure turned to face him. "How indeed, Atton Rand." Now it was Master Rand's turn to look dumbfounded. "The Echani believe battle to be the purest form of expression, so any of you may duel me if you wish to test my purity." None moved, except the brown-eyed Iridonian standing to the immediate left of the door. He wore a Jedi tunic, pants and belt, but wore black boots and a large brown crests edged with blue over either breast, extending over his shoulder to his waist. His left hand was entirely mechanical, a blue power binder glowing where the elbow joint should have been. The figure turned to him. "Well, I didn't expect to see you in the Council chambers Bao-Dur."

The Iridonian showed no reaction to his name, except a blink and a twitch of his forehead. Instead he adopted an unarmed combat stance, which the stranger emulated. They circled one another for a time, before Bao-Dur silently leapt forward to deliver a crushing blow with his mechanical arm. The figure easily dodged, and delivered a sharp jab to his opponent's side. Bao-Dur crashed to the floor, but recovered quickly. Not quick enough however, since the stranger rammed his hard in the chest with a shoulder thrust knocking him back to the wall. He rose, but only to return to his position next to the door, regarding his opponent with respect.

Next the Miraluka rose from her seat to the right of the door. She wore a mask that completely obscured the upper portion of her face, including where her eyes should be. Like her robes, which were in the style of the Jedi historian, the mask was a shade of dark crimson. She wore gloves of the same colour, one of which she used to draw a small silvery cylinder from her black belt. A slight movement of her fingers depressed a button on the object, and a long strand of yellow energy fell from it to the floor, staying attached to the handle like a whip. "My life for yours." She whispered, adopting a fighting stance.

It would seem that the stranger didn't know his new opponent, as he said nothing before drawing a vibrosword from under his cloak. He lunged but the Miraluka, whose name was Visas Marr, easily blocked it and returned with a crack from her lightwhip. The stranger caught the end of the weapon on his sword, which it wrapped around. Visas jerked as if to disarm him, but his hold was too strong. He wrenched backward on his sword, catapulting her back into her seat. Defeated, she deactivated her lightwhip.

The strange figure turned back to the council. Though they could not see his eyes, all of them could sense the challenge he posed. And one answered. She was a brown-eyed human female with a long mane of red hair, with to Master Rand's right. She wore a darker style of robe, with a low-cut tunic that displayed ample amounts of cleavage. The stranger evidently didn't know her either, as he silently readied himself for battle. The Jedi Master, Mira, drew a long metallic pole from a sheath on her back. She depressed a button and a beam of yellow light erupted from the hilt. The stranger seemed surprised by the unconventional lightsaber, and Mira took the opportunity to attack. Fortunately for him the stranger recovered in time, and parried the blow. They went on like this for some time, considerably longer than his previous duels, until finally a kick in the abdomen forced Mira back to her seat, where she remained.

The stranger's next challenger, a human male sitting to Master Marr's right, rose swiftly and silently. His hair was long and blonde, his eyes were blue, and a large beard that came to a point on his chin hid his jaw and upper lip. He wore the pale blue robes of a Jedi healer, and withdrew two peculiar lightsabers from his belt. They were built like a standard saber, only shorter with a handle attached perpendicularly. He ignited them, and revealed that the green-coloured blades were meant to be used as tonfas. He leapt at the stranger while his back was turned, hoping to gain the upper hand. However the stranger whirled around and punched him hard in the jaw, knocking him back and causing him to stumble back to his seat. The stranger shook his head sadly. "I would have thought better of you at least Mical, though you never did receive formal training."

The aloof and knowledgeable manner of the stranger was clearly beginning to annoy Master Rand, as he rose next and drew a single yellow lightsaber. The two men came together furiously, neither gaining an edge until Atton drew a blaster pistol from a hidden pocket of his robe. He fired off a shot that the stranger dodged just in time before bringing his sword down hard on the weapon, cleaving it in two. His duel with Master Rand lasted just a few minutes more, until he delivered a hard blow with the butt end of his sword to the Jedi's chest. Defeated, he slumped back into his seat.

From her position to Master Shan's left, a human female with green eyes and medium length light brown hair rose. She wore traditional Jedi robes, from which she drew a two violet lightsabers. The stranger looked at her for a moment before speaking. "Katia?" he asked familiarly with a hint of surprise in his voice. "I never thought it would be you." He mumbled the words to himself, and seemed engrossed in thought when Master Mayin attacked. Of course the stranger eventually won, but it was a hard fought battle on Katia's part. When she finally admitted defeat, the stranger turned back to Master Shan. "Now will you listen?" he asked, more than a little exasperatedly.

In response, the Jedi Grand Master rose from her seat and withdrew a longer lightsaber handle from her belt. She depressed the activator and a yellow blade was emitted from both sides of the handle. The stranger sighed, and they fought. Having to compensate for his lower number of blades, the stranger resorted to using many flips and seemingly impossible jumps to avoid being sliced in two. If it hadn't been apparent before, it was now: this strange man was force-sensitive. The duel seemed like it would never end, Master Shan little more than a blur of browns and yellow, and the stranger an oversized black frog leaping over her. Finally Master Shan brought one blade down on her opponent, which was blocked. They stayed like that, each trying to gain the advantage. For a second Master Shan felt the flicker of a familiar force signature from the mysterious man beneath her, but then it was swallowed by his unusual emptiness. Then the man did something she did not expect. He released one hand from the hilt of his sword and held it towards the Grand Master, delivering a powerful burst of force energy that launched her head over heels into the air. The stranger seemed to direct the airborne Master with his hand, and she landed back in her seat with a thump. He returned his sword to its space under his robe, and again seemed to gaze at Master Shan. Each one of the council marvelled at how his hood had not slipped during any of his duels, always obscuring his face. "Now, will you listen Bastila?" he asked in a soft voice, giving master Shan's first name an almost loving caress with his tongue.

She stiffened. "Before we do I demand to know how you know my name." She ordered the stranger. He let out a bark of laughter and swept his hood back. There was not a single councillor who did not gasp as they took in the familiar bald head, except for Bastila. She was engrossed with the stranger's blue eyes, which were focused completely on her grey. In an instant she understood. In a way, she had always known. "Revan."

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Alright, just want to clear some things up. 

1) Bao-Dur is NOT on the Council. He originally was going to be, but I decided the asymmetry of seven would suit my purposes better than having eight symmetrically

2) Katia Mayin is the Exile. It should be obvious, but there it is in plain English.

3) Maric Dargic is the name programmed to Revan by the old Jedi Council (before Sion's purge in KOTOR 2). Deralia is also canonically the alternate Revan's programmed homeworld. (look at the conversation with Bastila in KOTOR 1 where she asks you all the questions, you know I'm right)

I'm sorry if my fight scenes leave a little to be desired, I'll try to improve them for future chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

Though the entire premise of ff is copyright infringment, and as such a disclaimer is hardly necessary, here it is anyway.

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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**Chapter 2**

_She stiffened. "Before we do I demand to know how you know my name." She ordered the stranger. He let out a bark of laughter and swept his hood back. There was not a single councillor who did not gasp as they took in the familiar bald head, except for Bastila. She was engrossed with the stranger's blue eyes, which were focused completely on her grey. In an instant she understood. In a way, she had always known. "Revan."_

Revan smiled warmly at her, and the council felt the Force aura that he was no longer suppressing. Visas, who perceived everything through the Force, was even mildly intoxicated by it. But it seemed that a little bit of Carth had rubbed off on Bastila and she refused to further acknowledge her one-time lover, instead pressing a button on the armrest of her chair. There was a pause, and a tall rusty red protocol droid ambled through the door.

"Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve." The droid intoned.

"HK-47, identify organic sentients within this room." Bastila commanded, apparently she was the droid's master.

HK-47 scanned the small crowd quickly before complying. "Observation: My sensors indicate the presence of one Iridonian, male, one Miraluka, female, and six humans, three female three male. Identifying." The droid paused. "Bao-Dur, Iridonian male. Visas Marr, Miraluka female. Mira, Human female. Katia Mayin, Human female. Bastila Shan, Human female. Atton Rand, Human male. Mical, Human male. Revan, Human male. Statement: Master, it is a pleasure to see you fully functional. Reprimand: You gave the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ quite a scare when you vanished nine Republic Standard Years ago."

Revan smiled at his old droid. "Hello HK-47, I think I missed you most of all. With one exception." He threw a sly look at Bastila, who was rather unimpressed. "Well, am I me yet?" he asked the Grand Master with more than a hint of amusement.

Bastila huffed. "Almost. Droids can be fooled, but not everything can." Her gaze moved from Revan to a point beyond his left shoulder. "Jolee, can you help at all?"

"What do you want from me? All you young people look the same to my old eyes." A familiar voice emanated from the apparently empty patch of air. Revan whirled around, but couldn't see anyone. Bastila groaned. The voice sighed. "All right, all right I get it. You sure know how to pick 'em." Suddenly a human form appeared out of this air. It was unmistakeably Jolee Bindo, but he was almost transparent and had a distinct bluish tinge to him. "Good to see you on the other side of life kid." The old coot smiled at Revan, who was more than a little flabbergasted.

Bastila was impatiently tapping her foot. "Well, is it him?" she asked the spirit, sounding quite irritated with the cantankerous phantasm.

Jolee sighed heavily. "Yes, yes it's him. By the Force you'd think all your years of blind adherence to the Code would've taught you some respect for your elders." He grumbled, floating off to god-only-knows where.

Revan turned back to Bastila, arms open wide, wearing a triumphant smirk. Wearing a purely livid expression, she stormed past him out of the room. As she passed, she muttered. "Come."

Revan turned back to the council. "Wish me luck." He mouthed before following his lost love to her chambers.

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Revan surveyed the modest room curiously. Materialism had never been Bastila's way, but there were a few interesting finds. Firstly the mask he had worn as a Sith Lord was prominently displayed on her desk. Second he spied a flash of black coming from her closet, presumably the robes she had worn during her brief tenure as Malak's apprentice. His observations were cut short by a hard slap across the cheek. "That was for leaving." He turned to see Bastila glaring at him.

"I deserved that." He admitted.

She slapped him again. "That was for not telling us where you went."

"I deserved that too."

Slap. "Leaving me behind."

"And that."

Slap. "Reprogramming T3."

"That too."

Slap. "Not letting Katia come after you."

"I did deserve that, but to be fair…"

Slap. "Pretending to care about me."

"I did no…"

Slap. "For leaving Katia to deal with your old master."

"Okay, I did…"

Slap. ""Leaving Carth to deal with Telos."

"With your help."

Slap. "Leaving the Jedi to be killed liked animals."

"Now how was I…"

She moved to strike him again, but Revan caught her wrist. "Your hand will get very sore if you're going to keep doing this. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of."

Bastila wrenched her hand free from his grasp and kicked him firmly in the crotch. His eyes bulged, but he did not utter any noise. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, when he guessed his vocal chords were able to speak at frequencies humans could hear.

She nodded wearily and sank into the chair at her desk. "I'm sorry Maric." She sincerely apologized.

Revan sat slowly on her simple bed. "It's quite all right." He responded, his voice finally approaching normal pitch. "And call me Revan, please."

She gave him an odd look. "You came to terms with your identity?" she seemed slightly shocked by this.

He nodded. "That, or I just got used to everyone calling me that for nine years." He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Now she would want to know. Everything.

"Speaking of which, where have you been for all that time?" she asked him, doing a very good job keeping the irritation from her voice.

Revan pondered how best to answer her. "Tell you what. I'll tell you the story if you tell me what happened to the old crew." The look he gave her clearly conveyed a feeling of 'take it or leave it.'

She sighed. Bastila Shan was many things, but stupid was not one of them. She knew perfectly well that she would get nothing out of him until she acquiesced. "Well there isn't much to tell. Carth is an admiral now, he fought in the second battle of Telos and they gave him command of the entire Republic fleet. Canderous is still working on reuniting the clans, but he stops in every so often for a chat. HK-47 was damaged, but Katia repaired him. He and T3 helped her fight the Sith five years ago. Juhani and Jolee were killed in the purge. Jolee came back as a ghost of some kind, and does his best to help out. Zaalbar went back to Kashyyyk, and became chieftain after Freyyr died. Mission went with him, but it seems he convinced her that she belonged somewhere else. I'm not sure where she is now."

"And you?" he prodded. She sighed, not having wanted to talk about her own sorry past.

"I helped Carth rebuild Telos, and hung around Citadel Station until Katia pulled up in the_ Hawk _with a crowd of neophyte Jedi."

"Neophyte Jedi?" Revan asked, eyebrows raised. The next half hour or so was spent by Bastila explaining to Revan everything she had learned from Katia about the war against the Sith Triumvirate, from the skirmish of Peragus II to the destruction of Malachor V, while he listened with rapt attention. When she had finished, he told her his story. He told her how he had left T3-M4 and HK-47 at Malachor V with the _Ebon Hawk_, he told her how he had gradually regained the trust of the True Sith, he told her of the many atrocities he had been forced to commit. Finally, he told her how he had betrayed them again to return to the Republic.

Bastila could only gaze at him in awe. "You were serious." She murmured, more to herself than to Revan. He nodded. "This is…This is a very serious matter." Revan nodded again. "You need to explain to the Council what you propose we do." Revan nodded again. "Let me call Carth, he needs to hear this too. I believe he's on Telos now, he should be able to get here in a week or two." Revan nodded a final time and rose, realizing that the conversation was finished. Before he could leave, however, Bastila stopped him. "I am glad you're back." She told him sincerely, reaching up to deliver a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He smiled softly at her, returning the favour. "I should go. It wouldn't do for the Grand Master to be caught with a renegade in her quarters." He teased, and then he was gone. As he walked his arm involuntarily rose to touch his cheek. What a day.

Back in her room, Bastila cradled her head in her hands. "What am I going to do?" she asked the mask on her desk.

"Forgiving him sounds like a good place to start." Jolee's voice suggested from the direction of the door.

---

Revan spent the next few weeks training the lightsaber skills that had atrophied during his absence. He quickly built a new lightsaber, two in fact, blue in colour. Equally quickly he had established himself as the pre-eminent lightsaber combatant in the Academy. He had even taken to giving lessons to some of the younger initiates. Conversely, Bastila spent much of this time watching him. It had been so long, she had forgotten how he made her heart race.

Soon enough, Revan's time came. Accompanied by T3-M4 he strode once more into the council chambers, wearing the new Jedi robes that had been provided to replace his own shredded set. The entire Jedi Council was assembled, even Jolee had rendered himself visible for the occasion. Behind the perpetually empty chair stood Carth Onasi, in his military finest, and a large Wookiee, who wore a sword on his back and two large blasters on his belt. The Wookiee's insignia identified him as an admiral, though lesser than Carth. Canderous had also stopped by, and he stood next to Visas accompanied by a tall Mandalorian in gold armour.

"You may begin, Padawan Revan." Bastila instructed him, reverting to official titles in lieu of a first name.

Revan inclined his head. "Thank you Master Shan." To the apparent shock of Bastila, he was quite serious. "Admirals, _mando'ad_, esteemed councillors, apparitions from beyond the grave," Jolee chuckled. "I stand before you today to warn you of a great threat. Greater indeed than the Mandalorians, the powers of the Star Forge, or of the great Sith Lords. I speak of the great Empire of the Sith, which has hidden in the Unknown Regions since the time of the Hundred-Year Darkness."

Here Canderous, the established Mandalore, interrupted. "If the Sith have been hiding for a few thousand years, what makes you think they would be a threat now?" he asked, expressing disbelief at the claims of his former Captain.

"Two outsiders, one calling himself _sith'ari_ or Lord of the Sith, have recently taken over the population. The Sith themselves are not Force-sensitive, as these outsiders are, so they are worshipped as gods. T3, first image please." The tiny droid whirred and beeped before projecting an image of an immensely tall Falleen wearing a long black robe. His black hair was drawn up into a long topknot that draped over his shoulder. "This is one of them, he goes by the name Sith'ariMaleficus. He wields two double-bladed lightsabers in a unique mix of Jar'Kai and Ataru. Fortunately for us he rarely uses them. Next image T3." The new projection showed an even taller being, with two vertical stacks of two eyes on either side of his thin face. The being had a serpentine body, with four arms. He wore black armbands and a black tunic, edged in red. "Physically speaking, Maleficus's apprentice is even more dangerous. He is Hysalrian, but that is about all I know. He speaks very rarely, preferring to let his weapon speak for him. He wields a single lightsaber, along with a long staff. The staff seems to have a cortosis weave, and can become devastating in his hand. I never managed to catch his name. The Sith call him only _taral_, which is their word meaning 'he who protects.' These two have been slowly orchestrating the rise of the Sith in our galaxy, starting with the Mandalorian Wars. Their plans are near fruition, so they must be stopped."

The Wookiee rubbed his chin and growled out a question. Though Revan was fluent in Shyriiwook, a blue 3-PO unit he had not noticed before translated. "My master, Admiral Gorrhnak, wishes to ask what your plan is to stop these Sith."

Revan nodded, and T3 shut off his projections. "I propose to lead a small strike team of hand-selected individuals to lead an assault on Maleficus and 'taral.' This attack must be orchestrated to be completed upon the Sith invasion. When that objective is complete, the Republic fleet will be able to decimate the invaders with little resistance." He concluded.

Bastila glanced at Carth, who nodded, then at Canderous, who followed suit. "Very well." She finally said, turning back to Revan. "You are permitted to assemble your strike team. However, I personally insist on attendance."

Revan smiled at her. "Of course Bastila, how could you even think I'd leave you behind?" he looked at Carth. "Admiral Onasi, will you join my team again?"

"As long as I am permitted to bring my second-in-command, Admiral Gorrhnak." He replied with a grin."

"Naturally." Revan turned to Canderous. "And what of you Mandalore?"

"You were the only one in the galaxy who could best us Revan, how could you even ask if I'd follow you?" the ageing Mandalorian asked incredulously.

"And I, Proeliator Skirata, pledge my service to you, as Mandalore has." The second Mandalorian spoke up, bending down on one knee and clapping his right arm across his armoured chest.

Three other members of the Council now rose and made similar pledges. Atton Rand, Bao-Dur, and Katia Mayin all joined Revan's team. "Well, unless anyone has any objections I think we have our team." Revan stated.

"Actually sonny, there is one thing." Jolee mentioned nonchalantly. "The republic recently caught a Kel Dor smuggler named Lanzhou Urumqi. I have a feeling that you should take him with you."

Revan looked at Carth. "Can you arrange his release Carth?"

"I can try." The Admiral replied. "It shouldn't be hard, he isn't in for much more than blockade running anyway." Revan nodded in consent.

"Alright then, everyone pack your things and get a good night's sleep. We leave tomorrow morning on the _Ebon Hawk_." He instructed his team before striding out of the room, T3-M4 diligently following in his wake.

"Why do I get the feeling this is not going to be as easy as he makes it sound?" Katia asked, getting only laughter in response.

---

The next morning, Revan rose before anyone else in the Temple and departed for his ship. The only being on board was HK-47. "Good morning HK-47." Revan greeted.

"Greeting: Good morning master. Are we on schedule?" the droid asked.

"I have no reason to suspect otherwise." Revan replied, sinking into one of the chairs that surrounded the ship's navicomputer.

"Extrapolation: There appears to be something troubling you master." The infuriatingly observant droid commented.

Revan snorted. "Indeed. HK-47, calculate number of organic sentients in strike team."

HK-47's processors whirred audibly for a moment, activating protocols rarely used by an assassin droid. "Computation: my memory core suggests ten sentient meatbags, and my processor confirms this number. Query: What is it about this information that causes you distress master?"

Revan chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "It's where everyone is going to sleep. We only have seven bunks, counting the med bay, and ten people to fit."

"Argument: Master, your information is incorrect." The assassin droid interrupted. "The previous captain of this vessel, Katia Mayin, installed a cot in the communications room. Presuming that our pilot makes his quarters in the cockpit, that leaves eight bunks for nine meatbags."

Revan frowned. "That still doesn't solve the problem." He complained to his robotic companion.

"Placation: Master, the bunk in the communications room is double sized." The rusty-red droid continued.

Revan gave his creation a sly look. "When did you become so devious HK-47? That's a magnificent idea." He praised his creation. He really was glad he had built the bloodthirsty machine. Further discussion of sleeping arrangements were delayed by the appearance of Carth and Gorrhnak, each hefting a large rucksack.

"We have the prisoner, Canderous is bringing him up." Carth informed Revan. As if on cue the burly Mandalorian walked in, clasping his heavy repeating blaster, leading in a tall Kel Dor male. The prisoner was bare-chested, revealing red markings all over his torso. In fact he wore nothing more than his Antiox breath mask, some sandals, a belt with two blaster pistol sheaths dangling from it, and a tribal cloth that fell from his waist to his ankles. His hands were clasped in front of him, locked in a set of binders that Carth quickly unlocked. Gorrhnak handed the smuggler two heavy blaster pistols and a vibrosword.

He looked Revan up and down. "So you're Revan?" he asked, sounding rather unimpressed. Revan nodded. Lanzhou snorted. "Pleased to meet you." He grunted, heaving his equipment towards the cockpit. "I'm going to be sleeping up here, alright?" he called back, not waiting for an answer. Revan had a sneaking suspicion that, if it possessed face muscles, HK-47 would have shot him a smug look.

The former Sith Lord looked over at Carth. "Speaking of which you, Gorrhnak, and Bao-Dur will be taking the port dormitory." Carth nodded and he and his Wookiee admiral made their way in that direction. "Canderous, you and Skirata will be taking the starboard dorm."

Canderous made some mental calculations. "Revan, there are three bunks in the starboard dorm." He reminded the Jedi.

Revan nodded. "When Katia arrives I'm going to ask her if she minds sharing a room with two big Mandalorians. So you're going to be bunking with either her or Atton." He clarified for the soldier. Canderous saluted, and went to claim his bunk. Proeliator came in shortly afterward, and was directed to his room.

Lanzhou strode past, ignoring both occupants of the main hold, on his way to the engine room. Following this, intermittent periods of banging noises could be heard from that direction. At some point during the wait, HK-47 wandered off to double-check his weapon stores.

Not long after the assassin/protocol droid left T3 rolled in, followed by Katia and Atton. The two Jedi were carrying on some sort of argument, which Revan quickly broke up. "Katia, on the subject of sleeping arrangements, would you mind if you were sharing the starboard dorm with Canderous and Proeliator?" he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

Katia fixed him with a look that clearly conveyed that she thought he was an idiot. "Can't say I'd be too pleased." She responded coolly. T3 buzzed something that sounded like a laugh, rolling off to do some sort of repair.

Thanking the Force for the line in the Jedi code that read 'there is no emotion,' Revan raised his hands in an offering of peace. "All right, you take the med bay bunk then. Atton, you'll be sharing with the Mandalorians when you aren't co-piloting."

Atton nodded, indicating his understanding and acceptance of these arrangements. "Speaking of, where is my co-pilot?" he inquired.

"Trying to get a few more KTU's out of this infernal hyperdrive." The Kel Dor called out, not giving Revan a chance to reply. "I can't believe they call this bucket the fastest ship in the galaxy." Revan glanced at Atton, who rolled his eyes before meandering towards the cockpit. Katia, looking like she was trying to hold back laughter, made her exit as well.

Which left only Bao-Dur and Bastila. Personally, Revan would prefer Bao-Dur arrive first. It would certainly make the job of breaking the news to Bastila a lot easier. Fortunately the Force granted him a boon, in the form of a certain Iridonian Jedi Guardian descending from the top hatch. No words needed to be spoken, Bao-Dur just left to claim his bunk. That blasted mechanic always had been good at reading minds.

Now all Revan had to think about was how to explain to Bastila that they would be sleeping together, preferably not ending with him getting hit. His brief retreat into his own mind was, however, halted by a very warm hand on his shoulder. Bastila's, he knew it without turning. "Good morning." She yawned.

"Morning." He replied, slightly sleepily. "You want to put your stuff in your room?"

Her thin brown eyebrows raised a few degrees. "I have my own room?" she asked incredulously.

Revan shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, not exactly."

Her eyebrows lifted higher. "Whom am I sharing with?" Revan could not bring himself to respond verbally, instead giving her a nervous smile. "You?" he nodded. "You've got to be kidding me. Who's brilliant idea was that?"

"It was a group effort actually." Lanzhou's voice called from the engine room. Bastila turned back to Revan, fire in her eyes. He shrugged helplessly.

"Probably just someone's idea of a joke. Probably Carth. Or T3." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, if it bothers you that much I can sleep on the Cargo Hold floor." He suggested, not sounding particularly pleased with the prospect.

The defeat in his voice softened her. "No it's all right, really." She assured him. Looking up, he could see the concern and vulnerability rolling off her like sweat. Instinctively he tilted his head down, and she turned hers up. Moments before they made contact a loud bang brought them back to their senses, followed by the speeding orange blur that was Lanzhou Urumqi being launched backwards.

The Kel Dor picked himself up off the floor and rolled his shoulders back. Glancing at his new surroundings, he spied Bastila. "Pleased to meet you." He greeted brusquely, but amiably. "Is that everyone? Can we get this bucket of bolts moving?" Revan could only nod at his new pilot's bizarre personality, though he was fuming internally from the near miss. "Magnificent. Hyperspace co-ordinates would be lovely right now." He reminded the former Dark Lord of the Sith before ambling towards the cockpit. Shaking his head slightly, Revan went to the communications room to plot a course. Bastila followed, probably to see her new room.

The bunk wasn't terribly obtrusive; it was pushed against the wall next to the door. A few minutes of mental calculations and measuring on ancient astrogation charts later, Revan finally joined Lanzhou and Atton in the cockpit. The Jedi was straight-backed in the co-pilot's seat, while the smuggler was leaning back with his feet on the controls. Revan wordlessly handed him the hyperspace coordinates he had calculated, which drew the pilot's attention. He sat up quick and began punching buttons on the dash. "Hold on." He warned, just before a mighty lurch knocked Revan off his feet. "Sorry, this baby hasn't been flying much. The stabilizers are a little heavy." Without warning Lanzhou gunned the sublight engines, sending the _Ebon Hawk_ careening into the space above Coruscant at rapid speeds.

As soon as they broke the atmosphere Lanzhou started preparing all systems for the jump to lightspeed. "Okay, artificial gravity dropping. Deflector shields at maximum. Powering up the hyperdrive. Hold on Cap'n, and start praying." Before Revan could inquire what in the hell the blasé pilot was talking about, Lanzhou hit the hyperdrive for everything it had. It took the ship's systems a few agonizing moments to adjust to the speeds, far higher than what the ship was originally designed to withstand. By some miracle the thing held together, and the _Ebon Hawk_ and her crew flew off into the blue glow of hyperspace.

* * *

So there you are. A big crew perhaps, but it worked out well enough. Enjoy 

_Mando'ade_ Mando'a for Mandalorians


	3. Chapter 3

Though the entire premise of ff is copyright infringment, and as such a disclaimer is hardly necessary, here it is anyway.

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3**

_As soon as they broke the atmosphere Lanzhou started preparing all systems for the jump to lightspeed. "Okay, artificial gravity dropping. Deflector shields at maximum. Powering up the hyperdrive. Hold on Cap'n, and start praying." Before Revan could inquire what in the hell the blasé pilot was talking about, Lanzhou hit the hyperdrive for everything it had. It took the ship's systems a few agonizing moments to adjust to the speeds, far higher than what the ship was originally designed to withstand. By some miracle the thing held together, and the Ebon Hawk and her crew flew off into the blue glow of hyperspace. _

Lanzhou cried out triumphantly and spun around in his chair. "Ladies, gentlemen, droids and miscellaneous, I am a genius!" he proclaimed. "Forget your troubles, we are now en route to the Unknown Regions."

Atton was doing a systems check, the frown he wore becoming more pronounced with each passing moment. "Life support systems fully functional, relativistic shields strained but operational, hyperdrive output 3.747405725x108 metres per second, or 0.8 past lightspeed." Another triumphant cry from the pilot caused Atton to scowl even more. "I don't know how Revan, but he did it." The Sentinel pilot concluded.

Revan shook his head slowly, a small smile creeping onto his features. "ETA?"

"Well let's see. 45 thousand light years, 0.8 hyperdrive is 125 million times lightspeed." Atton inputted the numbers into the _Hawk_, and read off the result. "One year, three months, four days, one hour and fifteen minutes from now. Give or take a few seconds." Somehow he was able to maintain a straight face, even faced with Revan's scandalized expression.

"One year? You can't possibly be serious." Revan was, obviously, having difficulty wrapping his mind around the time it would take to reach the nameless Sith world.

"Actually I'm not." Atton confirmed, apathetic to the very angry glare he was receiving from the vastly more powerful Jedi. "Two weeks, give or take a day or two."

Revan snorted through the yawn that reminded him just how late it was. It had taken longer than he had expected to assemble the crew and get the ship spaceworthy again. "You two should get some sleep." He all but ordered the pilots. It seemed that Lanzhou had already taken his advice though the breath mask he wore, combined with his naturally difficult to read Force aura, made it impossible to tell. Atton nodded, rising from his seat and walking down the corridor towards the dorm he shared with the Mandalorians. Revan followed, but only until turning into his own room. Bastila's body suit hung over the back of a chair, its owner lying asleep on the bed facing him. Scratch that, she was not asleep. She looked it, and was so convincing that Revan would never have known the difference but for one thing. Her aura did not reflect the peace of a sleeping sentient; it whirled in time with the thoughts raging through her head. Revan was highly amused by her antic, but repressed the feeling so that she would not become aware.

Fully aware of the show he was giving the Jedi Master, he began to remove his robe. The soft whimper that emanated from Bastila brought a smile to his face. Unfortunately for his little peeping tom, Revan stopped undressing at the dark brown body glove-esque shorts he wore as undergarments. Fortunately for her the item was, as suggested by the name, rather tight. She refrained from uttering another sound, even as Revan climbed into the bed very close to her, though her aura had acquired a distinct tinge that Revan knew quite well. "Bastila?" he murmured in his once-lover's ear. She purred sleepily in response. "_Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum_." He mumbled before falling into a deep sleep, comforted by the warm presence he wrapped himself around in the night.

---

The next morning Revan found himself in the quite comfortable, if slightly embarrassing, arrangement of being entwined with his bed partner. Evidently, during the cold night of space, they had huddled together unconsciously for warmth. Not that he particularly minded the position, but any headway he had made in getting Bastila to open up to her emotions on their last voyage seemed to have been swept away. Doubtless she would not take to the current circumstance well. Revan was, by some cruel twist of fate, reminded rather harshly to the fact that Bastila wore extremely little to bed. Think, 'hair bands and a smile' little. Needless to say neither the two very hard points poking his chest, nor the warm moistness pressing against his thigh, were doing much to alleviate the awkwardness of their situation. He was having a rather hard time understanding how she could remain asleep with his 'reaction' to the problem pressing into her stomach.

All right, baby steps. Slowly, agonizingly so, Revan slid his right leg from between Bastila's thighs. Next he, with infinite care, raised her left arm from where it had been draped over his side. That left him free to sidle his arm from underneath her brown locks. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Revan rose from the bed and pulled on some pants. It was early (probably), and he needed breakfast.

Katia had made quite a few alterations to the original _Hawk_ over the years. Most of those were to make it less of a smuggler's freighter. The cargo hold, once quite expansive, had been mostly transformed into a dining area. It was to this part of the ship that Revan, wearing no more than the loose white pants given to him by the Jedi, was headed. Upon arrival he saw that much of his crew was already there, in varying states of dress and undress. In fact the only being fully clothed was Gorrhnak, the Wookie admiral, which didn't say much seeing as he only wore pauldrons and ammo halters anyway. Carth and Proeliator were both in attendance, arguing about what could only be the Mandalorian Wars. Katia was calmly eating some of whatever it was the ship carried for consumables while Atton, across from her, was not so subtly staring at her generous bosom.

"Eyes up Rand, you've been doing so good lately." She reprimanded without looking up. The fierce shade of red attained by the Jedi Master clearly told Revan that the 'holier than thou' treatment he had been presented to at the temple was a façade. Curious that he didn't sense it before. Revan felt a rush of pride for his academy's Jedi Hunter training program.

"Morning gentlemen, lady." He added with a nod toward Katia. "What's for breakfast?"

"By Coruscant time it's actually mid-afternoon, so you'd be having a late lunch." Carth piped up. "But your meal is the same either way." Since he was closest to the food locker he reached over and filled a shallow metal dish with white slop. "There you are, breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions." The Republic officer sarcastically praised, spinning the dish down the table to Revan. A loud clanking announced the arrival of HK-47.

"Assessment: My photoreceptors identify the product as a single-celled protein substance, bonded with vitamins and similar chemicals necessary for meatbag survival. While my processor calculates that it has a similar taste to rotten Bantha fodder, it is a highly nutritious meal substitute.

"Observation: It is also the only consumable resource on this vessel master, so you will have to eat it if you intend to survive the journey." The droid confirmed smugly.

"Everything the body needs, nothing the soul wants." Atton added with a smirk.

Revan looked at the goo doubtfully, but did try some of it. Sure enough it was not very tasty but, as HK-47 so aptly put, it was the only thing to eat on the ship. He took a seat at the end of the table and began to eat. At some point during the meal T3-M4 rolled in, loaded a dish, and headed off toward the cockpit. Bao-Dur, dripping with water and his lower half wrapped in a towel, popped in briefly, but he hardly touched his food before heading off again. An hour or so later, spent by Revan drinking coffee and swapping stories, he felt faint stirrings of consciousness in the back of his mind. The only thing that could possibly mean: Bastila was awake.

Sure enough she walked in shortly afterward, fully dressed naturally, for her 'breakfast.' Revan smirked at her. "Good afternoon sleeping beauty." He teased.

Bastila growled at him. "Is it really that late?" All present nodded. "By the Force, I need something to eat." She moved towards the storage locker containing the _Hawk_'s consumables.

"You need a shower too." Katia commented as Bastila passed. She rose and gripped the senior Jedi by the arm. "Come on, I've been meaning to talk to you anyway." The two of them vanished towards what had been, in Revan's day, the Garage. Now it was a refresher.

Revan took a long gulp of his coffee. "Is it too much to hope?" he asked Carth morosely.

He got a sympathetic shrug in return. "Who knows? Who ever knows?"

Guess who hadn't been keeping up on recent history? "I'm almost afraid to ask, but what in the Corellian Hell is going on here?" Atton asked Carth, who shared a private glance with Revan. Revan nodded solemnly.

Carth looked like his birthday had come early. "Well, that is an interesting story…"

---

Katia led Bastila through the maze of corridors leading to the new refresher. Once they got there, and sealed the door to the female half of the area, the younger Jedi rounded on the elder. "Alright, what's going on?" she asked the senior Jedi, maybe a little angrily.

Bastila, being quite well versed in the art of mind reading, knew exactly what it was the once-exiled Jedi referred to. However, since the subject embarrassed her to some degree, she feigned ignorance. "What is it you mean?"

Katia rolled her eyes. Typical. "Between you and Revan. There's obviously something going on there, whether you like it or not."

Bastila was not yet swayed. It was true that the two females had bonded, in a metaphorical sense, since the Jedi Order was predominately male at this point. In light of all that excess testosterone, sometimes the girls just needed to get together and chat. It was usually just the two of them; Visas rarely spoke to anyone, and Mira was usually too busy breaking the unwritten rule that forbid Jedi from pleasures of the flesh. (Mira was forever smuggling humanoid males out of her quarters in the wee hours of the morning. Bastila was even convinced she had sensed a Togorian once) Despite all that, Bastila trusted almost nobody with her darkest secret. "I don't know what you're talking about." She turned her back on Katia and began to undress, fully intending to have a long shower and forget the conversation ever took place.

Though Bastila could not see it, Katia smirked. "You love him, don't you?" she asked knowingly.

Bastila stopped dead. Only for a moment perhaps, but it was enough for Katia to get the answer she was looking for. "What on earth gives you that idea?" the Grand Master asked, doing her best to maintain a sense of calm. Needless to say she was failing.

Katia's smirk grew. "Oh nothing, besides the fact that every Force-sensitive on board can feel your heartbeat speeding up whenever his name is mentioned or he enters the room you're in. And certainly not that you just stopped breathing for a moment when I asked. I don't know what the big deal is, it's pretty obvious that he loves you too."

Bastila sighed, finally prepared to admit it. "No he doesn't." she corrected in a small voice.

That confused Katia, no doubt about it. There was no chance that she was reading the signals wrong, so what by the Force was Bastila talking about? "Now how did you get a foolish thought like that stuck in your head?"

Bastila sighed again. The conversation she had hoped never to have. At least it wasn't with Him. "Nine years ago he vanished without a trace. He didn't even say goodbye. How could he do that if he really loved me?" it was taking every ounce of Bastila's formidable willpower not to cry.

Katia grimaced. She had forgotten about that. Still, she had a lot of experience in saying goodbye to people she cared about. Of course she hadn't actually gone anywhere, but still. "Maybe he didn't say goodbye because he knew that you would go with him. He doesn't seem like the type to put someone he cared about in danger." Bastila sniffed, but remained silent. "Or maybe he didn't know if he would be able to leave if he saw you again. You never know."

Bastila shook her head. "Thanks for trying Kat, but don't bother. Whatever I may feel for him, he doesn't feel the same way. Best to just let sleeping dogs lie." With that she walked quickly into the shower and locked the door behind her.

Katia sighed. Whatever Bastila said, the mutual feelings between her and Revan were about as subtle as a thermal detonator. It was only a matter of time before the two of them figured it out.

---

Despite her vocal doubts on the subject Bastila had absolutely no difficulty in being the most flirtatious person in the galaxy when she felt like it, as Revan found every single 'morning' for the two weeks that it took the _Ebon Hawk_ to travel the galaxy. During the 'days' she was as uptight as she ever had been, and any potentially romantic moment was spoiled by some interfering crewmember.

One way or another each of the crew found some way to pass the time. Revan and Carth busied themselves with pazaak, in which Atton sometimes joined in, and the occasional game of dejarik. Lanzhou rarely left the cockpit, and spoke to no one. The Mandalorians kept mostly to themselves, usually in some kind of combat training. T3-M4 and Bao-Dur spent their days modifying and upgrading all the crew's weaponry. HK-47 powered down after the first three days after stowing himself in the Storage room just off the main hold. Admiral Gorrhnak went into hibernation, so he wasn't seen often. Bastila meditated endlessly, and Katia spent just as long trying to convince her that Revan really loved her.

All these activities, with the exception of HK-47's for obvious reasons, were put on hold roughly two weeks in when an enormous jerk and loud alarm cut through the almost stifling silence of the ship. "Attention folks, this is your pilot speaking. I'm going to ask our esteemed captain, Revan, to get his holy Jedi ass up to the cockpit five minutes ago." Lanzhou's voice cried out over a loudspeaker system Revan hadn't even known existed. Casting a confused glance at Carth he picked himself up off the floor and raced towards the source. What he saw there frightened him, really and truly frightened him.

Lanzhou and Atton were frantically hitting buttons, but through the glass…"We're too late." Revan whispered. Hundreds of Sith Battleships, an untold number of Sith Escort Gunships, and one giant Corsair in the middle of it all: the Sith invasion fleet.

"No shit." Lanzhou piped up. "What was your first clue? Any plans?" Revan had none. He had not expected the Sith to strike so soon.

"We're doomed." Was all he could say.

"Your confidence is a source of personal inspiration Cap." Lanzhou commented sarcastically. "Location?" he asked Atton.

Atton read some charts on his screen. "Arkanis sector. Just outside the Nelvaan system." He concluded.

Lanzhou nodded solemnly, purposefully pushing a button on his controls. "Ladies and gents this is your pilot speaking. Somebody wake up 47, he and Ordo are on turret duty. The rest of you hold on to your breakfast." He gave it a minute before the gunners' replies came over.

"Ready." In Canderous' deep tones.

"Affirmation: Ready." In HK-47's mechanical tenor.

"Commence firing indiscriminately on the Sith. And hold on tight." The pilot added on a side note. "You might want to strap yourself in Cap'n." he threw over his shoulder to the numb Revan. He did so. Lanzhou locked down Atton's control panel, then floored the accelerator. The tiny freighter sped towards the enormous fleet at top sublight speed. It was like the fleet exploded. Every small fighter burst towards them, and the larger vessels all began firing on the single ship. Thanks to Lanzhou's…unique piloting, and some excellent shooting by Canderous and HK-47 they managed to survive, barely.

A soft beeping drew Lanzhou's attention away from the glass to his control screen. Small contingents of fighters were closing in on them on all sides, up and down. A few keystrokes stopped the engines dead, moments later, when they had almost been surrounded, he dropped the repulsors. The ship dropped like a stone for a few metres, almost hitting the ships below them, before Lanzhou gunned the engines and sped away from the ambush. Several agonizing minutes later, in which Canderous fried the lateral turbolaser cannons and Lanzhou almost sent them crashing into countless Sith fighters, they were staring down the Corsair capital ship. Maleficus' flagship. More specifically, they were staring down the Corsair from between two large Battleships, each of which were closing in. "Watch your flanks." Atton admonished the Kel Dor pilot. Throwing the Jedi an annoyed glance, Lanzhou deftly made a few adjustments to the flight plan he had just entered. The _Hawk_ turned 90 degree straight up, then flipped over and shot between the massive ships with moments to spare. The Battleships crashed into each other and exploded, sending bone-jarring shockwaves into the tiny freighter.

Lanzhou checked his instruments, and discovered a bright red light. "We just lost stabilizers." He informed the present company calmly. Looming before them, getting closer by the second, was the planet of Nelvaan. The ex-smuggler pilot switched on the com again. "T3, could you try and restore power to the stabilizers. Thank you." Moments later the red light turned yellow. Mumbling something about how it would have to do, Lanzhou ploughed them into the planet's atmosphere. The strain on the ship was intense, but Lanzhou managed to land with minimal damage. Hopefully. The co-pilot's console was unlocked, and Atton began assessing the damages.

"Stabilizers are hanging on by a thread, lateral gun turrets are out, hyperdrive blew a motivator, life support and communications are missing entirely, and we're out of fuel." The smuggler-turned-Jedi summarized grimly. He turned to Revan. "Well, it could be worse." He suggested.

Revan gave him a look that clearly indicated his belief to the contrary. "How?" he enquired sardonically. Right on cue, the navicomputer blew out in a shower of glass and sparks. Revan picked his way through the mess to the pilot's seat, the occupant of which he picked up and pushed aside. He held his finger over the button, which he thought activated the loudspeaker, and shot a questioning glance at Lanzhou. The Kel Dor nodded. "This is Revan." He spoke clearly into the microphone. "Unsurprisingly we've suffered quite a lot of damage. All hands, organic and droid, report to the main hold for briefing. Now." He switched off the speaker and stood. "That means you too." He told the pilot, and all but frog-marched him to the briefing area.

---

Revan took a headcount once the flow of beings and droids dried up. Everyone was present and accounted for. Good. "Alright, here's where we stand. Thanks to the piloting of Lanzhou Urumqi, we are neither dead nor prisoners of the Sith Empire. However that same Empire has started its invasion some time ahead of schedule, so we are now stuck on this world with no communications, and no chance of alerting the Senate or the Jedi Order of the unexpected change in plans." The imposing man summarized. Things were not looking up, and he could see that many of the non-Jedi sentient organics were looking resigned to mission failure. Conversely many of the Jedi, Bastila and Katia foremost among them, were looking more and more determined to 'finish the game.' Revan of course, was all too happy to give them that chance. "However, even with the extensive list of damages, we have a large crew of extensively skilled beings. If we manage our time properly, we can get this ship up and running with time to spare." He inputted a few keystrokes into the console at the center of the main hold. A holographic image of the _Ebon Hawk_ was broadcast above, with the problem areas highlighted in red.

"First priority: navicomputer. No offense to our esteemed mechanics," Revan nodded towards Carth and Bao-Dur, "but we need droid precision for this operation. That means HK-47 and T3-M4 are in the cockpit."

T3 beeped his acceptance of his responsibility, but '47 was both capable of, and inclined to, add more. "Commentary: Normally master, I would express my disgust with being assigned with this blunt instrument.

"Resignation: However I understand that we are, to use a human idiom, pressed for time, so I will refrain in this case." Revan expressed his gratitude towards the droid, and they both clanked off to the cockpit.

Revan entered another keystroke, and the cockpit area faded from red to the natural blue. "Next priority: life support. Katia, can I leave that with you?" he asked his former general.

"I'll do my best, sir." She replied, subconsciously reverting to military address. She left, and Revan changed the holographic life support from red.

"Third: Hyperdrive. Bao-Dur and Gorrhnak, there should be a spare motivator in the compartment underneath one of the starboard bunks. Replace it and try to stabilize." Bao-Dur only nodded, but Gorrhnak roared his approval, which his infuriating 3PO unit translated.

"My master, the Right Honourable Admiral Gorrhnak, wishes to…" Gorrhnak picking it up by the vocabulator and carrying it out of the room cut it off.

Revan changed the hyperdrive colour. "Fourth: weapons. Both of our lateral turbolasers have been fried. My guess is that was a tibanna overload that blew out the magnetic firing ring. Mandalore, make a new ring on the workbench and fit in a new gas canister for the port turret. Proeliator, the same for the starboard." The Mandalorians saluted and went off to their assigned tasks.

Revan altered the turbolaser colours and surveyed the remaining crew. Himself, Lanzhou, Atton, Bastila and Carth. And the stabilizers, fuel and communications still to go. "Fifth task: stabilizers. Lanzhou, that's your department." The Kel Dor smuggler nodded in such a way that showed his appreciation for the irony of that assignment, and vanished.

The stabilizers on the holographic _Hawk_ turned blue. "Bastila and Carth, I find it hard to believe that we lost an entire tank of fuel in such a short space of time. Personally, I'm guessing we have a leak somewhere. Check the fuel tank and the sensors, and repair anything you find. Don't worry about the fuel, we'll have to figure something out later." Carth left, but Bastila looked thoughtful.

"From what I remember from the Jedi Archives, Nelvaan is home to a wide variety of florae. Couldn't we synthesize a temporary fuel from some of them, at least to hold us to a more civilized system." She suggested.

Revan nodded. "That's what I was thinking too, but depending on how friendly the locals are we might not even need to do that." She nodded in consent and left, a lot on her mind to think over. "Which leaves you and me for the communications dish, Jaq." Revan shot him a feral smile, which made Atton's blood run cold. He had a feeling that it would be a long job.

* * *

FYI: the obscene length of time that Atton joked it would take them to reach the Unknown Regions is actually how long it would take a 0.8 hyperdrive to travel from Coruscant to Tatooine, the direction they're heading, under the Galatic calendar. I thought it was altogether too much time, which is why my second ETA is so much less precise. 

_Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum_ is Mando'a for 'I love you'


	4. Chapter 4

I still don't think a disclaimer is necessary, but what do I know?

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Revan nodded. "That's what I was thinking too, but depending on how friendly the locals are we might not even need to do that." She nodded in consent and left, a lot on her mind to think over. "Which leaves you and me for the communications dish, Jaq." Revan shot him a feral smile, which made Atton's blood run cold. He had a feeling that it would be a long job._

As it turned out the Communications problem was nothing more than a crossed wire, so Revan was unable to give Atton the full third degree. Of course Revan already knew everything about Atton he would have wanted to know anyway, but he enjoyed seeing the ex-deserter squirm. Over the next couple of hours the rest of the teams filed in to report completion, and stayed to discover the solution to the fuel problem. Revan gave them both his and Bastila's plans, and they all agreed that borrowing fuel from the locals would likely be a quicker solution. Fortunately the _Hawk_ still had short-range scanners, which picked up a large congregation of organics nearby: possibly a settlement. The strange thing is that they also picked up a humanoid organic on the _Ebon Hawk_ itself, crawling slowly toward the service hatch.

"Gorrhnak, set your bowcaster to stun and try to pick him off from the service hatch." Revan ordered, in his element. "Carth, go outside the main hatch and cover him." The Republic officers scattered, the remainder of the crew heard the faint sounds of a wookiee bowcaster in rapid fire, and the owner of said bowcaster returned.

"My master explains that there is a human-sized organic on the top of the ship. It has an oval shaped, red head and white fangs. It looks quite vicious, and is not deterred by his bolts." The 3PO unit translated Gorrhnak's roars. Both Mandalorians stepped forward as if to offer their services in apprehending the beast, but it chose instead to come to them. A loud thump was heard from the direction of the service hatch. Revan motioned for the Mandalorians, Gorrhnak and HK-47 to draw their weapons and to fire when target was in sight.

The figure Gorrhnak described indeed came in, but white cloth-covered brown-booted legs could be seen moving the fearsome head. Given that the face was frozen in a silent roar, Revan gathered that it was merely a shield. The soldiers all began to fire, catching the creature in a storm of blaster bolts that were rapidly increasing in strength. Some of the earlier, and therefore less powerful, ones simply glanced off the shield. As the blaster power was dialled up the figure simple abandoned the shield. Despite the lack of covering, the being was weaving jumping and dodging so fast none of the crew (with the possible exception of the droids, but no one was very interested in listening to them at the moment) could identify it save for its blue colour.

Whatever it was it was extremely agile, being able to avoid even being nicked by the super powered heavy repeating blasters of the Mandalorians and HK-47. Finally Revan motioned for them to cease fire, drawing his lightsabers in the process. Atton, Katia, and Bastila all followed suit. The being finally stopped moving, but it was hanging in a patch of shadow. The Jedi could sense it looking at them, sizing them up, before it leapt at them. More specifically it leapt at Revan, its own blue lightsaber igniting. Revan was so caught off guard that he was only barely able to parry the violent strikes. Even after regaining his concentration it was difficult to defend, the strange being moving so fast. Finally it got in a strong kick to Revan's stomach, flooring him, and got its saber under his chin. Of course this meant it was forced to stop moving, and it became identifiable. It was a Nelvaanian, a blue-furred wolf with human proportions and opposable thumbs. He, for its build identified it as male, had straight black hair that fell to his shoulders and wore Jedi robes. His coal-black eyes were filled with anger, panic and fear, but Revan sensed that none of them were directed at him.

"Norkos?" Katia's questioning voice cut through the stillness. The Nelvaanian Jedi ignored her, and continued to stare at Revan. The sound of the remaining lightsabers deactivating followed.

"Are you quite finished trying to kill me?" Norkos asked in a low, cautious voice. Revan nodded, and the blue lightsaber at his throat retracted. Norkos replaced the silvery cylinder on his belt and stood at what Revan, a military man through and through, recognized as parade rest. "Grand Master Shan, Master Mayin, Master Rand. My apologies for attacking your crew." He addressed the members of the Council.

"No apology necessary Jedi Norkos." Bastila returned. "You acted in self defence." She helped Revan to his feet, and motioned to the rest of the crew to lower their weapons.

Katia stepped forward. "Norkos, allow me to introduce Mandalore and Proeliator Skirata, Mandalorian soldiers, Admiral Gorrhnak of the Republic Navy, Lanzhou Urumqi, former smuggler, and of course Padawan Revan who needs no further introduction." Each crewmember gave some form of greeting as they were introduced, which Norkos returned with a deliberate nod. At Revan however, the Nevlaanian Jedi offered his hand.

"You are very skilled with a lightsaber Padawan. I look forward to the opportunity to fight beside you." Revan extended his hand to accept Norkos', but HK-47 interrupted him.

"Observation: Master, it appears that the meatbag Onasi has levelled a modified Arkanian blaster pistol at the meatbag Norkos. His muscle tensions indicate that he is about to fire a highly charged blast." The assassination droid supplied helpfully.

Revan looked up to find that it was indeed the case. "Carth, no!" he shouted at the officer, a fraction too late. A large burst of orange energy had emanated from the barrel of the pistol, headed straight for Norkos. Too fast to follow, the Nelvaanian's blue lightsaber had ignited and been brought around to deflect the blast back towards Carth. The officer jumped to the side, but the blast caught him in the arm. Katia, resident healer, leapt forward to diagnose the injury. It had been a strong shot, and would have been fatal had it hit on target. As it was it blew a chunk of flesh out of Carth's elbow, exposing the joint. It could be healed with the facilities on board, to a point, but would require professional attention in time. She lifted the unconscious officer and carried him to the Medbay.

Canderous, the consummate professional, gave Norkos a grilling on his specific statements. "What makes you think you'll be fighting with us?" he asked the Nelvaanian, who was actually his equal in height. His voice was gruff and a little harsh, but then it usually was.

Norkos looked at him. Just looked. For a long time he stared into Canderous' t-shaped visor. The rest of the crew were shocked to see the Mandalorian, who was frightened of nothing that anyone present knew, actually shifting his weight in a nervous gesture. The Jedi finally spoke. "You require fuel. There is some in Rokrul village, nearby. But you must aid us first." He explained. Revan noticed that his Basic was beginning to fracture. He wondered how long it had been since Norkos had left the Academy.

Several eyebrows, or similar body parts, rose. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what exactly are you planning to make us do?" Lanzhou's artificially amplified voice piped up.

Norkos shifted his gaze, but to Revan rather than Lanzhou. "I will leave the explanation to our chieftain. Chose a small party and follow; Rokrul is not accustomed to outsiders." He instructed before taking several slow and deliberate strides to the exit hatch.

Revan glanced among his crew. "Mandalore, Proeliator, and Gorrhnak should stay and guard the ship. They're the best shots, and so will be able to defend with the most accuracy. I don't think Carth will be going anywhere for some time, and Katia needs to stay and heal him. T3 and Lanzhou should fine-tune some of the repairs. So who else wants to come?"

Atton and Bao-Dur immediately shook their heads. "We should stay and help with the repairs." Atton suggested. Bao-Dur voiced his concurrence. HK-47 straightened, if it was even possible for him to do so.

"Observation: Master, you could be in grave danger from the indigenous non sentient life forms on this world.

"Statement: I would be violating the programming you gave me as a bodyguard droid if I permitted you to leave this vessel without my accompaniment." Apparently that meant that he was coming, an assumption that was substantiated when the assassin loaded his Mandalorian heavy repeater with a new power cell.

"And you certainly aren't going to be leaving me behind. This time." Bastila added the last part under her breath, so that only the super-sensitive hearing of the droids could understand it. They both wisely refrained from commenting.

---

Norkos led the group through a wide landscape of mesas that reminded Bastila of Dantooine. The comparison was oddly soothing. Norkos had little trouble moving about normally, but Revan and Bastila had been forced to don personal artificial gravity generators (a neat little unit that Bao-Dur had devised). HK-47 was equally comfortable in Nelvaan's low gravity; Bao-Dur had installed the assassin/protocol droid with a modified version of the unit.

They two Jedi, and droid, followed their lupine guide along a long, winding path. Bastila had the feeling that they were being judged by Nelvaanian scouts. She probably wasn't far off either. "Tell me about our new friend." Bastila was a little shocked by Revan's voice. But then again, she should have been expecting it.

It took the Grand Master a moment to sift through her memories of Jedi apprentices until she found the ones containing the blue furry Knight. "He was one of the first apprentices. He was far too old to ever be considered for training, under normal circumstances, but we were just happy to find someone. Mira took him under her wing, which sometimes makes me wonder how he turned out so well." Revan chuckled a bit. Atton had relayed the stories of Mira's escapades in great detail. "He was a Guardian from the start; never very strong at solitary meditation, but the calm he achieved in battle was awe-inspiring. He actually developed his own combat style, incorporating his natural agility and the traditional Nelvaanian warrior shield he carries. He passed the Trials within only a few years, and then he vanished. I suppose he came out here to act as Watchman." The memories made Bastila smile, remembering simpler times. Comparatively.

Revan may have intended to respond, but it was at approximately that point that Norkos indicated a good-sized hole in the base of one of the mesas. They were herded in, and came out of the slick earthen tunnel amidst an underground colony of Nelvaanians. Everywhere they looked there was activity. White-haired elders relating legends to children, slender females caring for infants or cooking food, broad-chested males returning from the hunt or sharing stories of their adventures. Female Nelvaanians were about half the height of the males, which still put them at chin level to Revan. They were far more slender, doubtless from generations of being the 'gatherer' half of 'hunter-gatherer,' and wore long tan robes and their black hair up. Children, or at least those who were able to move on their own, were more quadrupedal than their parents. They also wore long robes, but theirs were a darker brown. Males wore short cloth skirts, and nothing else. Black geometric tracks covered their muscular torsos. Each male appeared to possess a primitive spear and shield painted as some sort of demon spirit. Norkos barked out greetings to many in the harsh language of his species, which were always returned. Only once did their party stop, before a very old Nelvaanian. Bastila wasn't sure, but if she had to guess she would say that this male had been present at the time of the Gank Massacres. After a short conversation, Norkos drew his companions up.

"Padawan Revan, Maser Shan, allow me to present Vallasos, shaman of Rokrul village, and his apprentice Orvos." Vallasos bowed low, and a small Nelvaanian boy was visible peeking from behind the elder's dark brown robe.

"It is an honour to meet you, sir." Bastila informed the shaman, respectfully bowing her head. Norkos' translation brought a smile to the old wolf's face.

Revan matched the bow. "Greetings Shaman Vallasos. May the flame of your wisdom burn ever bright." Revan spoke in Bothese, a language Vallasos was familiar enough with to cause him to bark excitedly.

Norkos translated. "Shaman Vallasos asks me to tell you that your courtesy reflects well on you. He wishes you well on your task, and bids you good day." The Shaman bowed low, an act that was mimicked by the Jedi, and hobbled off. "Come. The Chieftain awaits." Norkos led his new friends a short distance further. At the far end of the colony was a dome-shaped hollow. Inside was a tall Nelvaanian male, with protruding ears. He, unlike the other males, wore long leather pants. He was surrounded by depictions of Nelvaanian Demon-spirits. Norkos descended to sit with his legs folded under him, and directed the other Jedi to do the same. A brief conversation in Nelvaanese preceded the introductions. "Padawan Revan, Master Shan, I introduce you to Torzs-Fonok, Chieftain of Rokrul Village." Both Bastila and Revan extended their greetings, the former in Basic and the latter in Bothese. The Chieftain motioned for them to rise.

"Master Shan; Tales of honour come before you, as it is with Apprentice Revan." Torzs-Fonok told them in highly fractured Basic. Revan bristled slightly at the use of 'Apprentice,' but Norkos explained that the term 'Padawan' was unknown to the Nelvaanian hierarchy. "But, third warrior-companion silent. Cause bad feel among Rokrul."

HK-47, who truly had been attracting fearful stares from the Nelvaanian populace, turned from surveying the demon-masks. "Greeting: I am HK-47, Hunter-Killer droid unit constructed by former Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Revan. I am programmed in protocol and assassination.

"Threat: If you attempt to harm my master, Chieftain meatbag, I will be forced to vaporize you." The chieftain chuckled at 47's candour.

"Worry not metal-man. I have task for Apprentice Revan and mate." He assuaged calmly, not in the least angered by the assassin's threat. Bastila blushed at the implication, but the chieftain ignored it. "Cubs from village disappear. _Sotesteg_ in east stealing them." The chieftain broke off into gibbering spells in Nelvaanese.

"You want us to go after your young?" Revan conjectured. Torzs-Fonok nodded. Revan glanced at Bastila, and then at 47. "Alright, we'll do it. Give us the rest of the day to scout the area and come up with a plan." Torzs-Fonok acquiesced, and Norkos led them back to the _Hawk_. Moments after alighting the exit hatch Revan had whipped his makeshift crew into action. T3 had hyper-sensitized the life-form indicator, and Bao-Dur had modified the ship's particle shields to act as a vague cloaking device. The other Jedi, except for Atton as he had to help fly the ship, had arranged themselves in a meditation circle. Their goal was to block the ship and her occupants from the senses of any dark Jedi that may be lurking about. Lanzhou and Atton did a grid-pattern search of the area to the east of Rokrul. Sure enough, the tuned up scanners discovered a large group of humanoid lifeforms beneath one of the mesas. Lanzhou landed the ship a decent distance away, and the team began to plan.

Courtesy of T3's scanner system, Revan was orating to a digital map of the installation. It was not terribly large, but it had entrances facing each of the cardinal directions. "Alright, this is our objective." Revan indicated, unnecessarily, the map behind him. "Note the four entrances, this means we'll have to spilt up. Katia, how's Carth?" he asked the impromptu healer, who had just entered from the Medbay.

"Stable, but still unconscious. That shot would have fried a Hutt, he's lucky to be alive." She cast a playful glance at Norkos, who had the good grace to look abashed under his business-like features.

Revan sighed. This was going to be more difficult. "Alright, I want at least one Jedi per team. Atton, Proeliator, Canderous: you take the west entrance. T3's scanners pick up the most lifeform readings from there, so be ready to fight." In his tension Revan forgot to address the burly Mandalorian by his title. Canderous didn't seem to mind. "Gorrhnak, Bao-Dur, Norkos: East entrance. We don't know how often they do a grab, so be on the lookout for Nelvaanian cubs coming in." Norkos' face was the epitome of detached emotion, but he was radiating anger and nervous tension. Revan hoped he would be able to control that anger. "Lanzhou, T3, Katia: South entrance. Yours is the least heavily defended, so try and locate a computer terminal. If you have the time, look around for the holding cells." T3 chirruped his understanding. Lanzhou looked no different than he usually did. "HK-47, Bastila, and I will take the north entrance. Our task is to locate the force-user of the base. True Sith are not force-sensitive, so I'm guessing Maleficus planted one of his lieutenants here to run the operation. Everyone get ready; thirty minutes to zero hour."

---

"T minus five, four, three, two, one, now." Simultaneously four plasma mines burst around doors facing each of the cardinal directions. Moments following the detonations the building was infiltrated by four teams of three. Revan's, consisting of Bastila and 47, fortunately encountered no real resistance, save for a veritable labyrinth of corridors. As it was T3 actually contacted them on 47's comm unit to inform them that he had unlocked the security door to the central keep of the base. Behind this door lay their objective.

The room was spherical, all but the flattened floor. There were only five organics in the room, by HK-47's count. Two were tall, wearing deep purple hooded robes trimmed in gold. They carried curved-tipped spears and had barbed tentacle beards. Two others had the same beards, and same blood-red skin colour, but they were much larger in all aspects of the word. Theirs fingers were sharpened; they wore knee-length battle skirts, and carried long curved swords.

The final being was unlike any of the other four. The serpentine body and quadruple limbs clearly identified it as Taral, Maleficus' apprentice. A sharp movement of one of Taral's hands, and the robed figures departed. Another motion, and the large Massassi brandished their blades and moved forward. Bastila and Revan ingoted their lightsabers and HK-47 hefted his heavy repeater. Heavy drumming from aforementioned giant gun on one of the warriors' chests slew it, and Revan and Bastila tag-teamed the other into confusion before decapitating him. Wordlessly Taral drew a silver cylinder from his tunic, depressing a button to activate the longer-than-usual crimson blade.

47 fired, Taral deflected the bolts skywards. Bastila took this opportunity to lunge to try and catch him off guard. Needless to say she failed, received a clunk on the head from the Hysalrian's staff for her troubles. Revan was more cautious. Using the Force he lifted a solid block of obsidian from its place behind the serpentine Sith Lord. The block shattered, raining down millions of tiny shards. Incredibly strong tail muscles propelled Taral to safety, and then he really entered the fight. It was at the moment he turned to the offensive that he made the first sound Bastila ever heard him utter: a blood-curdling war cry in a language she had never heard of. The long green tail thrusted its owner in all manner of directions, making him very difficult to hit. Not even HK-47's super-sensitive photoreceptors, or Revan's intense combat form could penetrate the seemingly random scattering of attacks and blocks. The last thing Revan saw was a flash of brown that came at him too quick to dodge. Bastila's last sight was a scaly lump catching her in the stomach. HK-47 himself lasted long enough for a red beam of pure energy through his chassis to convince his processor that it needed to shut down.

* * *

dramatic chord 

Not much to add to this, but you didn't really expect them to just hop off the planet without doing some menial task did you?

R&R, eternally grateful


	5. Chapter 5

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5**

_The last thing Revan saw was a flash of brown that came at him too quick to dodge. Bastila's last sight was a scaly lump catching her in the stomach. HK-47 himself lasted long enough for a red beam of pure energy through his chassis to convince his processor that it needed to shut down._

Bastila's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in blackness. The room she was in, which felt small, received absolutely no light of any kind. It was only by stretching out with the Force that she was able to perceive Revan a few feet away from her, sitting with his legs folded under him, waiting. Though she could sense no form of binding preventing her, she found herself unable to move.

"_You're in shock."_ Revan's voice filtered through her mind. He had not spoken aloud, but had used the bond that had been almost entirely severed by his pains. _"Don't try and move yet. The feeling will return soon enough."_ She groaned aloud, discovering the bruising on her stomach from where Taral's tail had hit her. There was a loud banging sound, and a harsh command from above. _"Not a sound."_ Revan translated helpfully.

"_Where are we?"_ she asked him, wincing from the pain in her abdomen. She didn't think anything was broken, which was good. The angry flare of Revan's Force aura told her all she needed to know. They were prisoners of the Sith. _"Where are the others? Are they here too?"_ she was worried that the answer might be yes. If the rest of the crew had been captured, who would rescue them? It wasn't like they could do much at the moment. There had to be a reason Revan wasn't using the Force to break out.

She felt his perceptions broaden, searching. _"No."_ He responded finally. _"No they are not here. I can sense them, faint, moving. I do not know where."_ She was relieved. Although it didn't help their immediate predicament, it couldn't hurt to have friends on the outside. She rolled onto her side, then proceded to sit up slowly. "_Be careful. Too much noise will alert the guards. And that is not something you want to happen in this place."_

"_Were you imprisoned here before?"_ she felt him nod. _"It must have been terrible, having no one to talk to like this."_ Revan didn't answer, but she could tell that he was reliving the pain of those torturous years. _"I…I'm sorry. I didn't…"_

"_Don't."_ he pleaded. _"It's alright. It was a long time ago."_ He fell silent. _"I think it's time we had a talk."_ Bastila almost felt her heart stop. She knew exactly what he intended to speak to her about, and she was almost grateful for the crashing sound from above and the harsh command. Revan rose silently. Bastila followed suit. _"We are being taken to the bridge. Don't struggle."_ Tremendously strong arms lifted them out of their cell and clapped obsidian chains on them. Bastila immediately felt Revan's presence be torn from her mind. And she was blind again. The hallway was no darker than the cell, which meant that the chains must have been blocking her connection to the Force.

The creatures that were marching them along must have been extremely tall, and they set a terrifying pace. Revan, with his long strides, was able to keep up with only a little difficulty, but Bastila struggled more and more to stay upright until her guard simply threw her over a shoulder. The flesh was rough and uneven, but powerful. They ran through miles upon miles of pitch-black corridors until they were finally stopped. Bastila was set roughly down on the smooth floor. Another harsh command, which Bastila could not follow with no Revan to translate, and she felt herself be pushed forward. She must have passed through a door, as the current area was lit with a reddish glow emanating from the ring of crystals that stood a short distance ahead of her. She looked around, and saw Revan looking resolutely at an unusual patch of blackness in the centre of the ring. There was another unintelligible command, which was apparently not directed at the prisoners, and the floor shook slightly as their 'escort' departed the room. As soon as they were gone, the lights rose. Bastila was temporarily blinded by the incandescent glow. She looked around again.

They were in a spherical room. The walls were made of polished obsidian, blacker than night. Two large Massassi stood guard on either side of the doorway, wearing special goggles to filter the extreme light. They would have looked comical, if it weren't for the fact that the swords of their backs were almost as long as Bastila herself. Two more stood guard on either side of the prisoners. Up ahead there was indeed a ring of red crystals of varying heights and widths. In the center was an enormously tall figure wearing long black robes. It had it's back to them, but it had a long black topknot of hair and scaly green skin. It must have been Maleficus, Dark Lord of the Sith. Maleficus turned to face them, and Bastila was assaulted by a cool and calculating expression only achievable by the Falleen. "You will kneel before the Sith'ari." He instructed them in a low, guttural voice. Bastila glanced at Revan out of the corner of her eye, and was satisfied when he merely continued to regard Maleficus decisively. The Falleen gave a swift command to the Massassi next to Revan. The gigantic creature swept an arm under Revan, and the Jedi crumpled as his kneecaps broke. His teeth were gritted against the pain, but he would not scream.

Maleficus cast his dark eyes on Bastila. "Perhaps you will be more compliant." She certainly would not be. She stared back with the same determination Revan had. Another command, and the Massassi next to her broke her kneecaps as well. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain that flashed through her body. She had not realized how much she had relied on the Force to shunt aside the pain she felt in battle. The initial jolt wasn't even the worst; it was when her legs folded and her knees hit the floor that she loosed an agonized screech. Maleficus looked on with a satisfied smirk. Beside her Revan launched himself off of his broken kneecaps towards the Sith lord. The shattered bones carried him only as far as the ground, where he landed with a dull thud. A less collected being than the Sith Emperor would have begun laughing at the display. Not even the corners of Maleficus' mouth twitched. Revan's Massassi guard lifted him into the air and held him there.

"Well, well. It would seem that the traitor wishes to protect you from harm." He was addressing Bastila, but at the same time he was not. Revan continued to stare defiantly. The Falleen gave a command to the Massassi, and one of the door guards advanced to snap his obsidian vambraces on Revan's knees. The guard's wrists were so wide, the objects suited the captive Jedi quite comfortably as knee braces. He was set down, and one of the guards handed him a sword. Why he did not immediately slay the Massassi guards could be most readily explained as temporary insanity brought on by passion. Or perhaps it was simple common sense, a likely possibility when considering that the Massassi were twice Revan's size in every conceivable dimension. Whatever the reason, the newly armed Jedi took a hesitant lunge towards the Falleen Sith responsible for his imprisoned state. Since he was still chained his arm movement was limited, but the makeshift braces held. Maleficus did not even attempt the dodge the clumsy blow, and it made a glancing swipe off his arm.

Bastila shrieked in pain. A bloody gash, exactly the size and shape of the one that should be adorning the Sith lord, had appeared on her arm. It was not very deep, but it came extremely close to the major pressure point in her shoulder. Revan's eyes widened in horror, and Maleficus still remained composed. "And now you learn a valuable lesson: love is a double edged sword." His harsh voice was tinged with malice, but Revan would not rise to the bait now that he knew the consequences. The Falleen pulled a single lightsaber from his robe, and ignited the crimson blade swiftly. "As you attack others, your love is harmed. As you yourself are attacked, your love is harmed." He delivered a horizontal swipe to Revan's lower back. Bastila's spine inadvertently arched away from the place where a deep burn had appeared, in exactly the same place, accompanied by a scream. Revan faced her tormentor with hate in his eyes, but did not retaliate. Maleficus' eyes seemed to revel in the hate, like he was savouring a fine wine. "If you attack me, she suffers. If I attack you, she suffers. Your list of options is shrinking."

Revan knew this. It was rather obvious even at this early stage. He screwed up his eyes and slashed at his own legs, hoping to incapacitate himself and be led back to the cell. No such luck. Bastila screamed again as a fresh wound on her thigh opened and began to bleed profusely. Maleficus lunged with his saber, but Revan was ready this time. He parried the blow, and was satisfied when that did not cause any new screams. They duelled like that for a short time, one slashing and the other parrying. Every so often Maleficus would get a hit in, which would make Bastila squirm and scream. Somewhat less often Maleficus would lean into one of Revan's slashes, causing a fresh cut to burst open on Bastila's increasingly bloody body. After about five minutes of the back-and-forth duel, when the two were deadlocked, Revan had finally hit upon a plan. The next time his opponent made a strike Revan ducked, and slashed the saber hilt cleanly in two. His blade nicked the scaly green hand, but it was only enough to elicit a whimper rather than a full-fledged cry. The Sith lord almost looked triumphant when he issued another order which resulted in the two captives being carried back to their cells.

"_I'm sorry."_ Revan's voice all but filled her mind once their chains had been removed and they had been unceremoniously dropped into the pitch-black prison. _"If I could have, I would have spared you that pain."_

Bastila squirmed slowly around. The variety of cuts and burns stung white hot, but with her connection to the Force restored she was able to block most of the pain from her conscious mind. _"It's alright."_ She assured the apprehensive man. _"They don't hurt at all anymore."_

Revan was still concerned. _"Well, let me try and heal you anyway."_ The blue-white energy poured off of him, making him sweat from the exertion. Bastila was touched; Force mastery had never been Revan's forte, and the healing arts were an even greater strain on him. As the tendrils of Force power curled around her body, she cried out in pain. Through some unholy Sith magic, the wounds inflicted on her were stimulated by the healing Force. The pain was intense enough to bypass her own mental blocks against it reaching her brain. Worse still the wounds did not close, only became more inflamed with further stimulation. The only upside is that she felt her kneecaps melt and reform. Although it was an excruciatingly painful process, the reformed bone would be much stronger than a naturally healed joint. As soon as that was complete Revan stopped trying. He had successfully, unintentionally of course, reduced the Jedi Master to a quivering heap of flesh, blood, and tears. She assured him mentally that she was going to be fine, and that there was no need to apologize. He didn't, but it seemed to be a struggle for him. His aura was pulsing with indecision, disquiet, and even…love? It occurred to Bastila that she had never really examined his imprint in the Force.

He was lying flat, his back against the stone floor, fingers linked on his stomach. His breathing was regular, and his aura subdued, suggesting he had entered a hibernation trance to pass the potentially long hours of their imprisonment. She looked deeper, using their bond as a door into his deeper mind. It was still active, as she had expected it to be. There were a lot of memories he was dwelling on. Some of his earlier encounters with Maleficus and Taral, a few of his less proud moments posing as a Sith, some recovered memories from his time as Dark Lord of the Sith. She could not 'see' the memories, but instead received emotional impressions of them. Through these impressions, she gleaned curious insight into the mind of one of the most feared beings ever to exist. Had she been able to learn these thins during the early two years of the Jedi Civil War, the years where Revan had commanded the Sith armada, the war may have ended much quicker. The most interesting thing she found was actually a confirmation of the suppositions of Darth Traya, who had re-instructed Katia in the ways of the Force under the name Kreia. She had guessed that Revan had never truly fallen, that he sought to conquer the Republic in order to protect it against a greater threat.

As it turned out, it was true. Revan, who even as a Padawan had been inquisitive about the dark side of the Force, had discovered ancient writings in the dark places of the world. They spoke of an primeval race of warriors who had fled the world, in no small part due to the Jedi. He extrapolated, correctly as it happened, that the warriors would seek to destroy the ones they perceived, correctly or not would be inconsequential to them, to have driven them from their homes. In this realization he had discovered a great truth, that the Force was neither light nor dark but an all-encompassing grey, and used this new knowledge to defend the Republic by overthrowing it. That last piece of the puzzle explained a number of things, like why Revan's Sith had left the military centres of worlds he conquered nearly untouched, and why he had risked his own life to save hers when she faced him on board his flagship all those years ago. Her epiphany must have registered somewhere in the dormant consciousness, as she suddenly found herself sweeping towards a darker corner of the mind.

---

_He was there. Revan. _

_His armour was on, and he watched from the viewing platform of the Star Forge as his motley fleet of Star Forge snub fighters, _Hammerhead_-class cruisers, and _Interdictor_-class cruisers amassed and confronted the enormous armada of the True Sith head on. The battle was rather evenly matched, Revan's ship's skill deadlocking the Sith ship's sheer numbers. Nonetheless, he was unsurprised when a giant Corsair broke the ranks and landed in the Star Forge's docking bay. He was even less surprised when a commander informed him that a handful of Massassi, lead by a Falleen and a Hysalrian, were decimating the Forge's internal defence mechanisms. He called out subtly with the Force, summoning his other half to him. It would be unfair to call her an apprentice, even though she was still learning the methods of the new Empire, but she was not truly a partner. They were two halves of a whole, her and Revan, formerly opposing personalities merged together through the ultimate bond to become a single soul divided between two bodies._

_She was shorter than Revan, though most were, and had brown hair. It was pulled back and covered by the hood of a cloak the colour of dried blood. The one eye that was not closed by a scar was icy grey, boring like a drill into the minds of those she fixed it on. A dark breastplate armour, of the same material as Revan's, covered her rather generous bosom and stomach, but left her arms mostly bare. A long black skirt, slit up the sides to reveal tantalizing glimpses of flesh, flowed to her ankles, where they met dried blood red boots. The black armoured gauntlets on her slim wrists possessed three small nubs, each over the knuckles of her first three fingers. "What is it, my love?" she asked in a smooth voice._

_If the Dark Lord Revan was in any way affected by the appearance of the Dark Lady Bastila, no sign of it graced his body in any form. "We will be having guests, my dear. The Sith'ari and his apprentice should be joining us momentarily." He informed her in low, clear, and ominous tones._

_They had little or no affect on the Lady. Her darkly rubious lips curled into a feral smirk, and she drummed on the nubs adorning her gauntlets where her hands were clasped behind her. She joined her lover, for want of a better term, in watching their fleet slowly demolishing the Sith fighters and capital ships. Every few minutes some officer or other would cautiously approach the two to announce the progress of the intruders, and the casualty reports of both sides. "This must be how my old apprentice felt when we were fighting our way up." Revan commented, his voice tinged with an amusement rarely shown to the soldiers. Bastila chuckled._

_Finally the lift doors opened, and one set of footsteps and a sound akin to a beast of burden being dragged across the floor announced the arrival of their guests. The symbiotic partners turned as one, the exposed face of Bastila as emotionless as the mask of Revan. "Perhaps I underestimated you Revan. Your army is most impressive." The Falleen Maleficus praised in a deep, guttural voice. "And to think, we boarded your ship with almost a hundred Massassi and Kissai."_

_Bastila's eyes flared with anger. "You will address the Lord Revan properly, or not at all." She warned, a threatening note tingeing her usually dulcet tones. Revan raised an arm and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. Now that the enemy was here, he would not speak unless necessary._

_The lack of expression on the Sith'ari's face rivalled that of the Dark Lord and Lady. "Come now Lady Bastila, Revan and I are old friends. Isn't that right Taral?" The Hysalrian beside him nodded once, very deliberately. Maleficus turned back to them. "You may have won the battle, but it will not matter if we kill you both now." He pulled two long lightsabers from inside his cloak. Taral pulled a shorter one from his belt, and brought up a hand holding a long wooden staff._

_Revan pulled a similar saber from his own belt. "You have already lost, Maleficus. We will give you one chance to submit, and only one." The Falleen did not respond verbally, but ignited the two double-bladed crimson sabers. His apprentice did likewise with his. Had he been anyone else, Revan would have sighed. His crimson blade ignited, and a six-inch beam of red energy erupted from each of the nubs on Bastila's gauntlets. As one, the two raised their arms to the ceiling, releasing a hidden cache of solid obsidian blocks from where they hung. They dropped, missing the quick moving Sith, shattered, and embedded shards of volcanic glass into the backs of the interlopers. Taral leapt forward, catching the upward thrust of Bastila's saber-claws on his staff. Revan, meanwhile, was mercilessly swiping at Maleficus' near-impenetrable defence._

_Bastila slashed viciously at the Hysalrian, succeeding only in producing a series of claw marks of the clearly cortosis-woven wood of his staff. A hard upward thrust of the base caused her to fly through the air, only to right herself and land back on her feet. The opponents unleashed torrents of Force lightning at each other simultaneously, the blue bolts hammering off each other in midair. As he was more in tune with the dark side of the Force, Taral's lightning began gradually pushing back against Bastila's. At the last possible moment Bastila covered herself with a blue glow and absorbed the opposing energy into her body harmlessly. When the Hysalrian realized that he wasn't accomplishing anything he stopped, only to be knocked against the transparisteel window of the viewing platform by a burst of lighting from the Dark Lady fuelled by his own power. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the powerful energy bursts overloaded Taral's lightsaber and finally struck his serpentine body. The lightning finally stopped, revealing a charred corpse where the Sith apprentice had formerly stood. In order to be sure, Bastila approached and decapitated it before turning to the Dark Lord and Maleficus._

_Their duel lasted far longer. At the current time Revan had obliterated one of the Falleen's lightsabers completely, reducing him to a single double-bladed weapon. Bastila respectfully kept her distance, content to watch the two master swordsmen locked in mortal combat. Finally Maleficus' two blades overcame Revan's one, knocking the latter into a corner of the room. "I want to see the light leave your eyes." Maleficus hissed at Revan, his saber at his throat, before leaning in and pulling off the Dark Lord's mask. Revan's frigid blue eyes stared up at him, colour accentuated by the paleness of his skin. The Falleen's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Now you will die, and your precious galaxy will belong to the Sith once more." He thrust his saber into Revan's throat. Maleficus looked up to see why Bastila was not protesting the death of her lover, and so was not seriously damaged when Revan's corpse exploded in a shower of sparks and durasteel. The armour resisted the explosion, forcing an entire body's worth of polymer-covered alloy bones and shards of synthskin out of the armoured chest plate's neck. Revan had been replaced by a Human replica droid._

_A rusty red droid, tall even by the enormous Falleen's standards, emerged from the shadows and unleashed a torrent of powerful blaster fire at the being who had killed his replica master. A side door opened at the top of the viewing platform, and the real Revan strode confidently out. HK-47's suppressive fire had done very little damage to the Sith Emperor, but he had tired enough that Revan was easily able to take his lightsaber from the remains of his fallen doppelganger and thrust it through the scaly chest._

---

When Bastila came to, she was once more lying on the floor of the dark cell. She cast out her perceptions, and learned that Revan was again sitting with his knees folded beneath him. And he was watching her. _"What was that?"_ she asked groggily, through their bond.

Revan took a short time to answer. _"It is a vision I had, on top of the Rakatan Temple when you tried to turn me to the dark side."_ He told her simply. That was when things started to click for her, when it began to make sense.

"_So, that was what would have happened? If I had turned you and supplanted Malak?"_ Revan nodded. Despite the cruelty that they had used, they did not seem truly dark. She had used a Force absorption technique after all, a skill that drew on the light side of the Force. And neither of their bodies had been corrupted by darkness, although all she saw of Revan was a droid covered in synthskin. Even though they had destroyed the Republic, and mercilessly slew many people in the vision, she could not help but feel jealous of her Dark parallel self. That feeling was something Revan picked up on.

"_Why do you envy that you? What does she have that you do not?"_ he asked slowly. His aura showed genuine confusion, and maybe a little concern for her mental well-being. Plus, she was tired of beating around the bush about it. As such, she decided to answer him honestly.

She rose to her knees and looked over at where she perceived him to be. She could almost feel her eyes connect with his. _"You."_ She told him. One single word, nothing else. Nothing else was needed. She felt his eyes widen in shock, and he shuffled across the short distance that separated them.

He felt for her hand, and gripped it tightly in his when he found it. "You will always have me. All that I am, and all I could ever hope to be, if yours until the end of time." He whispered, giving voice to the realization of all her dreams for the past nine years. She was grateful that he had physically spoken, even at a whisper, rather than tell her mentally. Doing so would, she felt, cheapen the sentiment somewhat.

In the matter of moments immediately following Revan's declaration, several things happened. Revan and Bastila shared their first kiss in a little under a decade, in a Sith holding cell. The Sith complement of battleships turned their turbolaser batteries down to the surface of the planet Recopia, completely decimating the inhabitants of it's capital city Scapio. And, in the Council Room of the Jedi temple where the remaining Council members were conferring with the Supreme Chancellor via hologram, Councillor and Jedi Master Katia Mayin cried out in pain and collapsed.

* * *

Another cliffhanger, just because I'm evil. 

I was at one point considering turning my AU Dark!Revan vision into a full fledged fic. Thoughts on that?

Recopia and Scapio are not my invention, I want to make that clear.

Sorry if it seems like I got Revan and Bastila together too fast. I never like beating around the bush about it, and I always have trouble coming up with good excuses to do so. It was long enough, in my opinion.

R&R, as always.


	6. Chapter 6

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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* * *

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**Chapter 6**

_In the matter of moments immediately following Revan's declaration, several things happened. Revan and Bastila shared their first kiss in a little under a decade, in a Sith holding cell. The Sith complement of battleships turned their turbolaser batteries down to the surface of the planet Recopia, completely decimating the inhabitants of it's capital city Scapio. And, in the Council Room of the Jedi temple where the remaining Council members were conferring with the Supreme Chancellor via hologram, Councillor and Jedi Master Katia Mayin cried out in pain and collapsed._

Before Katia had even hit the floor, there was someone by her side to catch her. And it was not who anyone had expected it to be. When the Jedi who had once been called Exile awoke, she found herself looking straight into the comforting black eyes of Norkos. "Good morning." He greeted in his careful voice. There was nothing in his eyes but plain concern, but there were a multitude of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface of his near-expressionless face.

"Good morning." She returned, voice raspy and metallic from disuse. She sat up slowly, faltered, and was steadied by a warm hand on her lower back. She followed the blue-furred arm up to its owner's face, attempting to discern something of what he was feeling beneath his infuriating calm. Needless to saw she failed.

With his other hand, Norkos reached behind him and picked up a ration pack. Katia tore into it hungrily. She felt like some sort of carnivorous animal, and Norkos smiled at the comparison. His teeth were small and white, but sharp. "What happened to you?" he asked slowly.

Her eyes took on a distant quality as she remembered. Even the memory of the feeling threatened to drown her. "I felt something, a great disturbance in the Force. It was as though millions of voices had cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." Norkos was quiet for a long time. He had felt it too, they all had, but it hadn't affected anyone else as strongly as it had affected her. Then again, he remembered that she had always been good at forming Force bonds. She was very strong in the Force, so it stood to reason that she should be more sensitive to disturbances in it.

He almost didn't tell her. Almost. "We just received word from Recopia. The city of Scapio has been levelled by Sith bombardment." They sat in respectful silence for those lost. Each knew what had to be done, but neither was anxious to do it. "It is time to Council intervened." The Nelvaanian stated simply.

Katia nodded. "Get the _Hawk_ ready, and send for whatever Masters are willing. The Sith must be stopped." She rose from the bed in the Medical wing where she had been relocated, grateful that her robes had not been removed, and left to prepare for war.

---

Revan and Bastila did not utter a sound for a long time. They were content to simply explore each other, physically and mentally, where no others had explored in many years. They could not progress too far, since an amused voice filtered through both their minds. _"Forgive the intrusion, but I feel we must speak."_ The lovers rose quickly, Bastila subconsciously covering her exposed chest although there was no way this new prisoner could see her. They cast out with their feelings, and sensed a Quermian sitting cross-legged a few feet away, watching them. He was strong in the Force, but neither Jedi could sense either the dark or the light within him.

"_Very well, what do you want to speak about?"_ Revan asked cautiously, hoping against hope that his mental voice was enough to cover the rustling caused by Bastila redressing.

Seemingly at precisely the right moment, the cell was bathed in light. The Quermian was wearing traditional robes, and a smile that was bemused even by the standards of his species. _"I thought it might be a good idea if we could see one another. Don't worry about the guards, this light doesn't really exist."_ If he was attempting to be clear, he was failing dismally. _"It has come to my attention that you seek to destroy the Sith. Well, I may be able to help you."_

Bastila was suspicious, as per her nature. _"How?"_ she asked curiously. Revan couldn't help but confess to his own curiosity. For the prisoner of a totalitarian warlord, he was very self-confident.

The Quermian's smile grew. _"Because,"_ he told them simply, _"I can get you to the temple, the source of the Sith's power."_ He looked around, and Revan could have sworn his eyes twinkled slightly. _"But first we must escape."_ Neither Jedi was ever able to ask how they were supposed to do that, because two things happened in quick succession. First their light went out, and second whatever passed for a door above them was blown into tiny pieces. Two of the prisoners (guess which ones) could only blink stupidly up at the light that was suddenly flooding it, the real light mind you. None of that illusionary stuff this time. A very large hand gripped each of them by the scruff of their necks, and lifted them up so that they came face-to-mask with Canderous and Proeliator. HK-47 was powering up a new Mandalorian Assault rifle, and the entire Jedi Council was assembled solemnly.

"Master Bastila, Padawan Revan." Katia greeted formally, inclining her head. "We need to get off this ship, quickly."

Bastila nodded. "There is another prisoner down there, a Quermian. He says he can help us." Katia shrugged, and Canderous reached in and withdrew the biped. He was so tall that he was able to stand comfortably, even with Canderous keeping a firm grip on his neck. "Release him Canderous." The Mandalorian did so grudging. The Quermian brushed himself off and regarded the assembly carefully.

"Well, are we going or not?" he asked. Katia gave Bastila and Revan an odd look, and led them away from the holding cells. Fluorescent strips had been hastily stuck to the walls, providing the path with bright artificial light. Whatever Massassi were in contact with the light were screaming and clawing at their eyes. The rest stood in the shadows of other paths, watching but never coming near the hated light. The honour guard led their escapees through a hole cut in the side of the ship into the hovering _Ebon Hawk_. The Quermian, who had still not revealed his name, vanished in the direction of the cockpit to give Lanzhou coordinates. Before departing however, he issued an order to the assembled Jedi. "Somebody needs to connect to the hyperdrive if he plan on getting there in time." He advised.

"No." Revan interrupted quietly. Every eye and visual sensor on the ship turned to look at him. "We must go to Coruscant. I can feel the end, and we must be ready." He turned to Canderous. "Honoured Mandalore, ten years ago you swore an oath to fight with me until the bitter end. Are your soldiers ready?" he asked solemnly. The air of power around him was unmistakeable.

Canderous, initially surprised by the formality of Revan's tone, saluted promptly. "I will assemble the clans, they will be waiting on Coruscant." He promised, and moved to contact his troops when Revan motioned that he could go. Proeliator followed closely.

"Admiral Onasi, can you arrange a meeting of the fleet admirals on Coruscant?" he requested of the Officer, who had appeared in the corridor leading to the cockpit. He nodded curtly, explaining that they were already set to meet in order to coordinate against the Sith assault. "HK-47, I need you to deploy a contingent of HK-51 units from Telos to Coruscant."

47's photoreceptors flashed quickly. "Affirmation: You may consider them en-route, master." He announced proudly.

Revan nodded. "Good. Master Mical, see if you can do anything about Bastila's wounds. Everyone else stay sharp. We will coordinate at Coruscant, and then we fight" His sheer charisma made everyone present, even those who did not believe in combat, believe in his cause. Those who had not fought beside him in the Mandalorian wars suddenly understood why he had been hailed as such a great leader. They would fight for him, die for him, and he knew it.

---

Revan, his brown robes trailing in his wake, led the Jedi High Council into the Republic War Room. It was already occupied by a smattering of Mandalorian neo-crusaders and Republic soldiers, who were exchanging distrustful glares, and a group of black assassin droids. The nine Jedi, two Republic admirals, two droids, two Mandalorians, and the Quermian all took places around the room. Revan went immediately to the center. He looked over the motley assembly. "Good afternoon. As you should be aware, Sith forces recently decimated the Recopian city of Scapio. They are now heading for Coruscant." The muttering that broke out among the (slightly) less disciplined Republic soldiers was quelled with one glance of Revan's light blue eyes. He activated the holographic tactical projector, which showed what was apparently the planet Coruscant surrounded by two ranks of ships. One rank was facing the other, which apparently meant that one was the Sith and one was the Republic.

"The Republic will remain here to protect the planet. Admiral Onasi, you're in charge of that." Carth nodded soberly. "I have received intelligence that the Sith lords are no longer in the fleet, and that they have retreated to their homeworld. That is why I will be taking the Jedi, the Mandalorians, and the HK-51's in that direction." The hologram changed to a slightly smaller planet. The tactical display mirrored his words as he spoke. "The Mandalorians and droids will be responsible for the locals. They are not Force-sensitive, but are naturally strong and vicious. Ask for no quarter, and give none."

"The Jedi will be with me, in the Sith temple. I'm sorry to say I don't know what we'll find, but I fully expect the Sith Lords Taral and Maleficus to be present. Our task if to eliminate them." The hologram shut off. "I will not lie to you, this will be the most difficult battle many of you have ever faced. It will be in this battle, that the future of our time will be decided. Death will smile on each and every one of you this day, all you can do is smile back." His eyes were glowing with conviction and intensity. "Now let us go, and teach these Sith the meaning of fear!" the combined armies roared in approval, forgetting their cultural barriers and old rivalries. For one glorious battle they were all equal.

On board the _Ebon Hawk_, the ship that would carry Revan's team to the nameless world of the Sith, the Quermian had instructed one of the Jedi to channel their energies into the hyperdrive so that they would arrive in time to save the Republic. With scarcely a moment's hesitation, Bao-Dur strode back to the engine room. Everyone else watched from the central hold as he removed the protective casing surrounding the engine and plunged his mechanical hand inside it. His cry of pain was muffled by the door that he closed and locked with the Force.

No one moved to stop him, not because they didn't care, but because they knew that they would be unable to win this battle without someone assisting the hyperdrive. They strapped themselves down and Lanzhou took off, clocking speeds far higher than anyone had thought the ship capable of managing.

Once they had broken free of the atmosphere, and jumped to lightspeed, the remaining crew went their separate ways. Most of them went to the dormitories to sleep and meditate, and HK-47 plugged himself into a recharge port and shut down. Revan made his way to his room, intent to prepare himself for the return to the nameless world. He sat on the bed that he and Bastila had shared, delving into the memories and losing all sense of time.

A presence in the back of his mind drew him towards reality. Bastila was in their room, standing in front of him. He nodded to the spot next to him, and she sat. "Mical let you out?" he hated the uncertain tone of his voice. It was like he didn't know where he was going anymore.

She heard the tone, and responded to it. Her hand found his and squeezed, letting him know that she was with him. "Yea, said the sword must have been enchanted with Sith magic. Which was why the wounds didn't heal, and why…"

"Why I kept hurting you." He finished listlessly. She could only nod; it was true after all. Her grip strengthened, trying to tell him that it wasn't his fault. The emotions crossed through their bond, and she sensed him relax. His arms slid around her body and they held each other. "I want to ask you something, but I don't know how to do it." He told her after a prolonged, yet comfortable silence.

She pulled away from him only enough to look at his face. He was staring resolutely at his boots, refusing to meet her eyes. "Revan," her tongue caressed the name, "if I can do it I will, you know that." It is almost a reprimand, but not quite.

He smiled the softest of smiles. He did indeed know it, but it didn't make it easier. "No, hear it all before you answer." He paused. "What if I asked you not to come with me, to stay on the _Hawk_ until all this is over?" he asked quietly. She had to strain to hear him.

"Why would you want me to do that?" she asked, confused and a little hurt. Did he not think she was strong enough, that she would fall to the dark side again?

His hand making gentle circles on her back, and the heat of his body as he held her closer, assured her otherwise. "I only just found you again. I won't be able to go on if I lost you." She was going to plead; say that she was capable of taking care of herself, or that she was in as much danger of losing him. But he silenced her by meeting her gaze. "Please." He whispered. She found herself nodding, without any conscious consideration.

Thankfulness flowed through their bond like a river, and their lips met passionately. They consumed each other's mouths hungrily, as a condemned man eats his last meal. Their hands roamed, touching and grazing and kneading and stroking. He groaned into her when a delicate five delicate fingers wormed their way into his pants and gripped him, and she moaned into him when his calloused palm slithered down to cup her. Neither heard the footsteps treading down the hall until it was nearly too late. They broke apart quickly, smoothing their robes, and it was with calm plastered over guilty expressions that Katia found them.

She looked between them two of them with a rapidly growing smile. "About time." She commented. Bastila flushed scarlet. Katia turned to Revan. "That Quermian you picked up says it's almost time." She gave them both another knowing glance, and left.

Revan rose to go, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "I need to give you something." She told him, almost shyly. He took a seat, and watched in awe as she brought a large black case out from under the bed. The catches popped, and Revan found himself looking at a familiar set of armour. He gave her a questioning look. "After our imprisonment, I thought it was wrong of you to embrace only the light. All beings are duality, have the ability to do both good and evil. But both are a part of you." It struck so true to what he had believed when he last wore the armour, still believed.

"You just want to watch me changing." He teased her gently. She coloured, but didn't deny it. Revan indulged her, and in a few short moments he was once more wearing the armour that had inspired fear in an entire galaxy. It felt comforting, like slipping into a warm bath after a hard exercise. He flipped the hood up, and met his love for what may very well have been their last kiss as they dropped from hyperspace. And then he was gone again.

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Revan strode confidently into the main hold of the _Hawk_, and felt the shocked gazes on him. He stood more or less in the center of the room, where the holoprojector sat, and began his briefing. "Greetings fellow Jedi, Mandalorians, and assassin droids." He addressed the assembled Jedi and the holograms of Canderous and HK-47. "As you well know, this fight will decide the fate of the galaxy for centuries to come. If we lose this fight, then your children will grow old in a world ruled by the very things we have fought against since the beginning of the Republic. If we fail, then the outcome of Coruscant will not matter. This one battle will win or lose the war that has been plaguing our galaxy for over twenty years, and began with the Mandalore Wars." He took a deep breath, casting an appraising gaze over his assembled forces. Though he could not see them, he knew that his image was being projected to the combined forces of the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders and the HK-51 units. "You all know your duties. Let us fight." With that, the _Ebon Hawk_ and the rest of their motley fleet landed on the surface of the Sith's nameless and sunless homeworld, and the combined forces charged out.

They were met with a small, but populous race. Their skin was red, their eyes large, and fought with all manner of tools. They were more or less evenly matched. Each of the fighters on Revan's side could see quite clearly, through either infrared sensors or the Force, and the Sith were exceptionally well adapted to the lack of light. Twelve lightsabers activated, casting even more light over the planet. Revan looked back to see the Quermian almost flying through the crowds, slashing and hacking with two silver-tinted blades. His own, the cyan and bronze that accompanied his armour, fed the dark half of Revan's thirst for blood by cutting a swathe of destruction through the horde. Most of the Jedi followed him. The Quermian and Visas were those who stayed behind, and of course Bao-Dur was still incapacitated from lending his power to the hyperdrive.

The band of Jedi was making its way towards a large black dome. Even more Sith were fighting for their lives to defend the temple, even hanging off the doorways of standing stones hurling rocks. Every one of them perished, and the small army entered the fortress unobstructed.

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Maybe I'm pushing the 'T' rating a bit...Alas.

So there it is, everything is coming to a head. If anyone doubts that the Republic forces will be able to hold off the Sith fleet, don't worry. They won't be alone for long. Also the twelve sabers is accurate. Two each for the Quermian, Katia, Revan and Mical, and one each for Visas, Mira, Norkos, and Atton.

Sorry for the long wait between updates, but I work in a rotation and I had some trouble with some other fics. R&R anyway, please?


	7. Chapter 7

Star Wars and all information pertaining to it is the property of Lucasarts Ltd. Knights of the Old Republic is the joint property of BioWare Co. and of Obsidian Entertainment. The short story both preceding and following this disclaimer is an unauthorized piece, spawned from my own imagination. As such, the plot and any original characters are the property of the author. Any money made from this story is against the consent of the author, who is not receiving one thin dime.

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Chapter 7

_The band of Jedi was making its way towards a large black dome. Even more Sith were fighting for their lives to defend the temple, even hanging off the doorways of standing stones hurling rocks. Every one of them perished, and the small army entered the fortress unobstructed._

The room was dark, spherical, large. Statues lined the wall in every direction. Some were recognizable, like the Sith Lords of old, but most had no easily identifiable likeness. Many figures stood in the room, besides Revan and the Jedi. Maleficus knelt in the center, facing away from them. Taral stood to his side, slightly behind. Surrounding the Sith duo, facing the motionless Jedi, were large numbers of both Massassi warriors and Kissai priests; approximately one of each for every Jedi. The Council, Revan, and Norkos adopted battle stances; not a single one of the Sith moved.

"Greetings Revan." The voice was harsh and cruel, but it came from no breathing creature within the temple. The statue directly across from the entrance, of Marka Ragnos, glowed briefly with a reddish light; the spirit of the ancient Sith lord flew from it. Similar glows emanated from the other statues, releasing the spirits of Tulak Hord, Naga Sadow, Ludo Kressh, Freedon Nadd, and others.

Revan looked among the figures worriedly. They reminded him of the spirit of Ajunta Pall he had once encountered, but there was something terribly dark about them. "You cannot win Revan." Maleficus' voice drifted up from the Sith Lord's position on the floor. "I am commanded by the Great Sith Lords; their combined might is unstoppable."

"The defeat of your Jedi is inevitable." Another ancient Lord said; he was a Rakata. "We will feast on the flesh of your greatest warriors, dine on the brains of your greatest thinkers, and the Sith will take their rightful place as masters of all Creation." The Rakata brandished his sword in a sign of triumph.

Revan rolled his eyes. "Talk about your clichés." He muttered to his team. They chuckled.

The spirit of Freedon Nadd fired a barrage of shots from his bronze-surfaced blaster towards the Jedi. Many of them instinctually parried them with their lightsabers, but the shots passed right through them without causing any harm. "SILENCE!" The ghost roared, his anger doubled by the lack of effect caused by his blaster. "Maleficus, destroy them!" Immediately, many things happened. The spirits returned to their statues, except for Naga Sadow. The remaining apparition began chanting lowly in the ancient Sith language. The Massassi began to grow, becoming behemoths compared to their former size. And the corporeal Sith turned on the Jedi.

"Watch the Kissai, the robed ones." He told his team. "Their Sith magic could very well overwhelm you if you aren't careful." Each other member of the Jedi strike team was focused on a pair of Sith, one Massassi and one Kissai; The fights were hardly even, but the Jedi managed well enough. Revan, on the other hand, had his eyes on a bigger prize: Taral.

The two swordsmen circled each other slowly, wary to attack. A Kissai flew past, impaling itself on the outstretched sword of a Verpine Sith's statue, and the calm broke. Both sentients flew at each other, sabers and staff clashing in a battle of supremacy. Revan stabbed, Taral parried; Taral swiped, Revan ducked; Revan slashed, Taral dodged. The cycle continued. Although Revan had considerably greater finesse them the clumsy reptilian, he was outmatched in sheer strength. Taral's strong downward slashes weakened his arms ever more with each impact, until he was all but overwhelmed. He could feel his guard dropping, leaving an opening for a well-placed thrust to finish him off, but an image swam before his eyes.

Far in the distance, so far he could barely make it out, he could see the memory of his duel on board Maleficus' Corsair. He could plainly see Bastila writhing away from the wounds caused, however indirectly, by him. He could see every drop of blood fall to the ground in agonizingly slow motion, and it made him mad. Where before the light was guiding his actions, the dark took over. His limbs found new strength, his joints more speed, and the tide began to turn. His face, as blank as the mask he had worn when still he went by 'Darth,' looked onto the Hysalrian apprentice as his arms renewed their furious vigour. He could feel the dark taint begin to stain his flesh, but the light within him gave fresh colour to his skin. And, when he had finally subdued his enemy, it was the light that determined he was too dangerous to remain alive. A quick slice, and Taral's four-eyed head rolled away from its body.

Oblivious to the sounds of battle around him, Revan turned to the Dark Lord. Maleficus had not moved during the entire fight, but he moved now. He rose slowly and steadily, his many feet easily topping Revan's. Two long, slender handles found their way into the scaled hands; four crimson blades erupted, and they fought. It was more than just a battle of good over evil. Both of these combatants had, at one point in their lives, been the greatest Sith Lords of their time. All other battles ceased, and Jedi and Sith alike looked in awe at the furious clash of their greatest warriors.

Revan managed to hold his own for a long time, longer than any other had survived against the Dark Lord, but not even the Dark side of the Force can sustain a being in such levels of physical exertion forever. Revan's actions began to slow, his form became sloppy over the passing hours, while Maleficus' well-rested muscles kept him tough and limber. The smaller battles had recommenced, but neither leaders heard them. The two of them were encased in their own world apart from everything else, where the only things that existed were each other. Finally, it became all too much for Revan. One misaligned slash left his lower defences open, and Maleficus claimed first blood in the form of Revan's right leg. The former Sith Lord fell to the ground, unable to support himself, and a crimson blade found its place over his heart. Blue eyes met yellow, and Revan knew he was going to die. The only thing he regretted was not being able to spend his last moments with Bastila. It was corny, but true nonetheless.

But on this day, fortune smiled on him. A narrow shaft of yellow light slowly, carefully, penetrated the Falleen's chest a few inches below his sternum; a fatal wound. For the first time, Revan saw the Sith's face lose its calm appearances. His mouth was gaping, tongue flailing, and low gravelly tones were being emitted by his throat. In barely a moment, he was dead. The tall corpse collapsed under its own weight, revealing the pale and shivering form of Bastila Shan. She extended a quivering hand to him, and he used it to pull himself up. While his amputation was certainly painful, and provided the otherwise unnecessary dependency on another person for support, he could at least be pleased that he was not bleeding; the intense heat of Maleficus' lightsaber hat cauterized the wound a fraction of a second after inflicting it. "I thought I told you to stay out of this." He murmured into her ear, still too exhausted to form fully audible words.

She smiled slightly as she helped him limp over to where the Jedi, victorious against the Sith with no fatalities, were sitting. "Yea, yea. I don't hear you complaining." They shared another chuckle. She moved to set him down, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand.

"So? Where do we stand?" he asked the assembled Jedi. Every one of them was nursing some sort of injury, but there were no other amputations and everyone was conscious.

Mira pulled a datapad out of her ridiculously low-cut robe and scanned it. "We're looking at about eight feet of pure obsidian, possibly an obsidian hybrid of some sort. Unless you have some military grade plasma mines, this temple isn't coming down." She told him. It was not good news, until Atton of all people was hit with a stroke of brilliance.

"What about the _Hawk_?" He asked the group at large. None of them had an answer, so he turned to Mira. "Would the _Hawk_'s lateral laser cannons have enough power to take out the rock?" The ex-hunter did some calculations on her datapad, them nodded solemnly. On some unseen cue, the sound of very powerful sublight engines could be heard steadily approaching. The unmistakeable noise of laser weapons firing was heard, and the ceiling of the temple was decimated. Immediately following that, a very large earthquake shook the planet's surface.

"Not that these sorts of things are my speciality, but I don't think that was good." The Quermian spoke up, unhelpfully.

Katia looked around; she had always been the most in-tune to the Force of the Council. "It feels like the temple is tied directly to the planetary core; with the stability of one threatened, the core seems to be melting." Every single person present knew what that meant. Without a core, the planet would collapse upon its own weight. The lives of the entire Jedi council, hundreds of Mandalorians, and thousands of Sith in other areas would be extinguished. Someone asked if there was any possibility of slowing the decay, at least until they could escape. Katia shook her head. "The only chance would be if one of us stayed behind. With enough concentration, they may be able to halt the process long enough for the rest of us to get away." They all looked at one another, decisions like that were never easy.

They were silent for what seemed like an eternity, though it couldn't have been more than half a minute. Each Jedi was painfully aware that the longer they put off the inevitable, the closer the planet came to complete destruction. Finally, Mira stood up with a look of determination on her face. "You guys get lost, I'll stay." They all simultaneously tried to convince the former bounty hunter not to do it, to no avail. "Come on, we all know I'm the most useless person here. Atton can fly, Katia is the best Force-user we have, Bastila has the most experience, the Quermian has the most knowledge, Mical is the only one who can heal, Revan and Norkos can fight, and Visas knows all the history." They kept it up, each receiving similar degrees of success, until she pointed out that they would be buried if they didn't leave soon. And she wasn't coming with them, whatever they said.

The eight of them reluctantly left the shaking temple, Revan supported by Bastila on one side and Atton on the other. Mira went to the centre of what was formerly a dome and sat in a meditative pose. The rumbling all but stopped. Revan was helped on board his ship, and into the Medbay bunk. Lanzhou apologized for his lack of forethought, was told it didn't matter much, and the small freighter took off. They were the last ship to leave; the Mandalorian fleet was already in orbit.

The floor of the temple began to fracture, the portion Mira sat on raising like a pedestal. She looked up at the winking lights that signified Mandalorian starships entering hyperspace, and smiled slightly to herself. In the back of her mind she heard Kreia, manipulative old witch, making a prediction. "_She will live…but only for a time. Her death will occur in many years time, on a forgotten planet, saving the lives of others. But it will be her choice, and she will have no regrets._" As the great pillars of stone surrounding the temple began to fall, and Mira knew the end was approaching, only one thought entered her head: "And I don't." She spoke it aloud, her soft voice reverberating as though she had shouted to the hills, before the planet's core finally melted, and every living creature on its surface ceased to exist.

In the skies above Coruscant, long before the Jedi and the Mandalorians landed on the surface of the nameless world, another battle was being fought. The Republic Naval forces were waging war against the much larger Sith fleet. The Republic was more skilled, but eventually number would consume them. Admiral Carth Onasi stood on the bridge of the _Sojourn_, staring listlessly at the tactical screen. The Sith was demolishing them left and right, and only a few key victories kept them from being wiped out. " Blue, red, and green squadrons, attack pattern upsilon. Red and green flanking. Engage fighters in 7-3-9. Blue, red, green commands: concentrate on the battleship in 7-4-0." He commanded his armada.

In that battle they ended up taking down an entire Sith battalion, but it cost them large casualties in the fighter squadrons and one of the command ships. No, the battle was not going well at all. If only they could destroy the Corsair. Suddenly, one of the ship's proximity sensors went off. Carth scanned the tactical display. Incredible numbers of heavily armed, and heavily modified, transport ships were coming in. "Unidentified transports: this is Republic Capital ship _Sojourn_. You are ordered to deactivate your weapons and await inspection." One of the soldiers at the bridge computers instructed the fleet. She was a new recruit; Carth didn't even know her name yet.

A very familiar voice coming from the speaker made the Admiral's head turn. "Sorry _Sojourn_, love to help you but I think those uglies on your other side are going to tear you to pieces if we don't lend a hand." Carth walked over to the console and waved the soldier away. She saluted smartly, still a greenhorn private.

"Mission? Is that you kid?" He asked the ship that had responded. In the background he could hear the unmistakeable sound of laughing Wookiees.

The girl's voice was chuckling just as hard, and Carth couldn't help joining in. "Carth! How're you doing old man?" Mission returned. He told her the situation, and her voice grew solemn. "Don't worry about anything anymore; the Hidden Beks are behind you all the way!" There was a brief scuffling on the other end, and another old friend said hello. Zaalbar's roars declared that the services of Rwookrrorro were also at the service of the Republic fleet. Much as he would have loved to catch up with old friends, they all had more important matters to attend to. He returned to the tactical screen, doing his best to keep as many ships in one piece as he could, while Missions fleet of Wookiees and gang members docked at the giant Corsair in the middle.

Time passed at an agonizing rate. The Republic managed to stave off total annihilation, but it was a close thing. Hours later, with the fleet down to approximately thirty percent, he received another transmission from the Twi'lek and her fleet. "Pull your guys back Carth, that baby's gonna blow!" The Admiral immediately called for a full tactical retreat. The fighters docked in their command ships, which in turn docked in the capital ships, which turned one hundred and eighty degrees around and made a micro-jump just to the edge of the system. A long algorithmic string of an unrecognizable Wookie dialect was broadcast from the head of the Taris fleet, towards the Corsair.

For a long moment, maybe only the duration from heartbeat to heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, a blinding flare lit up the sky for miles. It was compounded by the glow that symbolized strain being placed on Coruscant's planetary shield. The shield soon shimmered and died, but only moments after the flash dissipated. When the crew of the _Sojourn_ had blinked the spots from there eyes, the Sith invasion fleet was no more. The sounds of jubilant celebration filled the ship, both from her crew and over the comm channels from other ships.

Carth transferred the feed from Mission's transport to his personal line. "Well kid," He chuckled into the microphone, "I never though I'd say this to you, but you did good." They shared a laugh. She countered him by calling him old-timer, and that he knew loved her. The laughter died down. "Thanks." He told her, seriously.

He could sense her nodding. "Anytime. Consider it payback for saving my hide from the Taris bombing." They talked a bit more, and Carth brought up Revan's return. "You're kidding me? He's back? Geez, I hope Bastila gave him hell." He assured her that yes, she did, but they seemed to be getting along much better the last time he had seen them. And not in the way she would no doubt perceive it as. "Spoilsport." She huffed at him. "I'm sure they're getting much better acquainted as we speak." He had to concede the point.

As it happens, Mission and Carth were very much wrong. Revan was finding himself on the bunk in his own Medbay, being examined by Mical while Bastila looked on. After a reasonably long stretch of time, the Jedi healer pronounced his diagnosis. "I'm afraid I can't re-grow the limb through the Force, not even with the combined willpower of every Jedi on this ship. You'll have to wait until we get to Coruscant to have a cybernetic limb fitted." He told them, packing away the instruments he had used to analyse the cut before leaving to assist other wounded Jedi.

Revan sidled over on the bunk, and patted the newly-created space with a grin. Bastila obligingly came over and lay down beside him, careful not to disturb the stump that had formerly been his leg. They just lay there, holding each other, each basking in the warmth of the other's presence. It was comforting, after all that had happened, to lie with one another and be at peace. They lay still and silent for many hours, finally drifting off into peaceable slumber.

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And there you have it, the end of the action. One more chapter is guaranteed, and we'll see about any others then.

R&R, even so near the end


	8. On Hiatus

On Hiatus

**On Hiatus**

As the title implies, this story is on hiatus until further notice. I simply don't know what I'm going to do with this as of yet. My original plan entailed cutting it off here, with maybe one or two chapters until the end. Now, however, I have two other endings I'm toying with. One involves a longer adventure section, detailing Revan's efforts to eradicate the last vestiges of the True Sith; this would obviously entail going into greater detail about the characters and such, making it more like a KOTOR game, but it would take a great deal of time that could be spent writing new stories. The second and last option I'm considering would be to cut off the main plot here, but continue slightly longer with some of Revan and Bastila's life for the next few decades; it would be a middle ground between my two options, and would lead to some great Revan/Bastila moments, but it doesn't flesh out the characters as much.

Since I am at such a quandary, I would appreciate any and all suggestions on which way I should turn. I read every one of my reviews, even if I don't respond to all of them, so if you do leave me a comment I can promise that I will take it into consideration.

I hope that this wasn't too disappointing for those of you who were anticipating this next chapter, and I apologize if I got your hopes up. I just don't know what to do with this story anymore.


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